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FARNELL'S    FOLLY 


BY 


J.  T.  TROWBRIDGE 


BOSTON 

LEE     AND     SHEPARD,    PUBLISHERS 

KEW     YOKK 

CHARLES  T,  DILLINGHAM,  678  BROADWAY 

1886 


Copyright, 

18S4, 
Bt    J.    T.    TROWBRIDGE. 

All  rightu  reserved. 


FARNELL'S    FOLLY. 


Electrotypfd  and  Printed  by 
Alfred  Mudge  i  Son,  24  Franklin  St.,  Boston. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   I. 
Ward  Farnell  is  not  well,  and  why 7 

CHAPTER   II. 
Ward  Farnell  is  somewhat  Better ^4 

CHAPTER  TIL 
The  Temporary  Hitch  becomes  Permanent     ....      21 

CHAPTER   IV. 

.      26 
Will  and  Marian 

CHAPTER   V. 
The  Mission  of  a  Black  Dog 35 

CHAPTER  VI. 

,      44 
Marian  at  Home 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Mrs.  Fenway's  Tea 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
An  Old-fashioned  Winter  Evening ST' 


€32 


2  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  IX. 
How  Mr.  Daskill  was  entertained 68 

CHAPTER  X. 

Mr.  Fenway  gives  some  Account  of  himself  .        .        .        .      83 

CHAPTER    XI. 
Geordie  comes  Home,  and  Somebody  with  him       ...      94 

CHAPTER   Xn. 
What  happened  to  Wiix  Rayburn      .        .  ...     106 

CHAPTER   XHI. 
Will  receives  a  Shock 116 

CHAPTER   XIV. 
Marian  fokcets  her  Mother's  Counsels 127 

CHAPTER    XV. 
Mrs.  Fenway  cets  heaied  and  cooled  again.        .        .        .     135 

CHAPTER   XVI. 
Tempted  by  a  Ring 142 

CHAPTER    XVII. 
A  Bright  Bubble  bursts 152 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
Will  loses  his  Situation 158 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
Leave-takings 

CHArTF:R   XX. 
Marian's  Adventure 

CHArTER   XXI. 
Engaged      

CHAPTER    XXII. 
Dress-making     .■••**' 

CHAPTER   XXIII. 

Mrs.  Fenway  visits  Bluebeard's  Castle 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 
Mrs.  Fenway's  Quandary      .        •        •        • 

CHAPTER   XXV. 
The  Missing  Latch-key.        •        •        •        • 

CHAPTER    XXVI. 
The  Wedding    ..•••"■ 

CHAPTER   XXVIL 
Marian's  New  Home 

CHAPTER   XXVIH. 
A  Visit  from  the  Old  Folks 


.   .  165 


.  172 


18: 


194 


209 


216 


.  222 


.  234 


.  ^41 


4  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   XXIX. 
Mr.  Cakolus  corrkcts  an  Error 251 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
Julia  Farnell  at  the  Folly 256 

CHAPTER   XXXI. 
How  Marian  made  Choice  of  a  Companion     ....     264 

CHAPTER   XXXII. 
Mrs.  Chilgrove  is  taken  into  Confidence      ....    270 

CHAPTER    XXXIH. 
The  Fortunes  of  Rubbling  Run  ......    282 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 


Mrs.  Chilgrove  installed 


CHAPTER   XXXV. 


Will  gets  a  Long-promised  Ride 


294 


305 


CHAPTER   XXXVI. 
A  Plow  at  the  Bubbling  Run 315 

CHAPTER   XXXVII. 
A  Rupture 328 

CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 
How  the  Head  Clerk's  Cravat  got  Awry      ....    334 


A  Storm  coming  on 


CONTENTS.  5 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

338 


CHAPTER  XL. 
Marian  learns  the  Truth 344 

CHAPTER   XLI. 
Under  the  White  Dove 355 

CHAPTER   XLII. 
Overwhelmed 3o4 

CHAPTER   XLin. 
Why  Miles  called  on  Adolphus 37 1 

CHAPTER   XLIV. 
How  the  Lost  One  was  found 3^° 

CHAPTER   XLV. 
How  Mrs.  Fenway  received  the  News 3^6 

CHAPTER  XLVL 
Adolphus  goes  to  fetch  Marian  Home 392 

CHAPTER   XLVIL 
Will  R,a.yburn's  Plan 402 

CHAPTER    XLVHL 
Mrs.  Chilgrove's  Plan 410 


O  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   XLIX. 
Geordie  Lorkins  brings  News 420 

CHAPTER   I„ 
Julia  Farnell 424 

CHAPTER    LT. 
Somebody's  Bi.undkr 434 

CHAPTER   LH. 
How  Adolphus  went  back  to  Marian 440 

CHAPTER   LHI. 
Ward  Farnell's  Plan,  and  what  came  of  it  .        .        .        .     444 

CHAPTER   LIV. 
Mrs.  Fenway  comes  Round 453 

CHAPTER  LV. 
A  Last  Meeting 465 


FARNELLS    FOLLY. 


CHAPTER    L 

WARD    FARNELL    IS    NOT    WELL,    AND    WHY, 

Ward  Farnell,  the  merchant  of  Waybrook,  had  been 
closeted  half  the  afternoon  wiih  his  head  clerk  and  a  stran- 
ger from  Buffalo,  when  at  five  o'clock  he  came  out  of  his 
counting-room,  looking  so  changed,  so  old  and  so  ghastly, 
that  the  boys  in  the  store  ceased  their  jokes,  and  the  gravest 
among  them  stepped  forward  with  a  countenance  full  of  anx- 
ious sympathy. 

"  Can  I  do  anything  for  you,  Mr.  Farnell  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,  thank  you,  William.  I  am  going  home.  I  am  not 
well." 

"  But,  Mr.  Farnell,  you  have  n't  your  overcoat !  " 

"  Ah  !  have  n't  I  ?  you  are  very  kind." 

Waiting  for  his  coat,  the  merchant  grasped  feebly  at  the 
counter  behind  him,  and  leaned  unsteadily,  with  his  hat  set 
in  a  sort  of  drunken  way  on  his  broad,  grizzled  head.  The 
young  man  brought  the  garment  and  guided  the  struggling 
arms  into  it,  smoothing  it  over  the  shoulders  with  needless 
solicitude,  as  if  his  very  hands  would  show  the  kindness  of 
his  heart. 

"  Thank  you,  William.  You  were  always  one  of  my  best 
boys.  I  suppose  you  know  what  has  happened  ?  I  am  a 
ruined  man,  a  ruined  man  ! " 


8  farnell's  folly. 

"  I  hope  it  is  not  so  bad  as  that  ! ' '  said  William. 

"  It  is  Avorse  than  I  can  tell !  worse  than  I  can  tell  !  "  said 
Ward  Farnell,  with  piteous  iteration.  "  Everything  is  swept 
from  under  me."  His  shaking  hands  fumbled  aimlessly  with 
the  buttons  of  his  coat.  "  I  must  go  home  and  break  it  —  if 
I  can  —  to  Julia." 

Shocked  as  he  was  to  hear  of  the  financial  disaster,  Wil- 
liam was  still  more  disturbed  to  see  the  dignity  of  the  man 
so  shaken  to  pieces  by  it. 

"  Let  me  go  first  and  prepare  her,"  he  proposed,  in  the 
kindest  tones. 

Ward  Farnell  hesitated,  pulling  his  gloves  off  and  on. 
Perhaps  he  remembered  that  never  clerk  of  his  had  been 
asked  to  enter  his  house  in  any  other  capacity  than  that  of  a 
subordinate  who  knew  his  place.  And  now  should  this  one  — 
the  best  of  all  his  "boys,"  yet  never  quite  good  enou;^h  to 
associate  on  equal  terms  with  his  family  —  be  commissioned 
to  inform  the  proud  Julia  that  she  was  the  child  of  a  bankrupt 
and  a  beggar .'' 

Ward  Farnell  got  his  buttons  and  gloves  right  at  last, 
straightened  himself,  adjusted  his  hat  at  a  somewhat  less  ques- 
tionable angle,  and  answered  with  recovered  dignity, — 

"  I  have  been  unfortunate,  but  not  base ;  not  base,  William. 
I  will  break  it  to  her  myself.  But  if  you  please,  you  may  go 
up  to  the  new  house  and  tell  the  workmen  there  that  —  that  it 
has  passed  out  of  my  hands.     I  suppose  they  ought  to  know." 

It  was  his  extravagance  in  building  for  the  world's  admira- 
tion which  had  embarrassed  him  in  a  season  of  hard  times 
and  precipitated  his  ruin.  This  everybody  knew,  or  would 
soon  know ;  and  henceforth  the  great  house,  which  was  to  have 
been  a  witness  to  his  prosperity,  would  stand  a  melancholy 
monument  of  his  failure.  William  felt  his  own  heart  sink  in 
sympathy  with  the  humiliation  of  the  man  as  he  took  from  him 
this  message. 


WARD    FARXELL    IS    NOT    WELL,    AND    WHY.  9 

"  I  will  tell  them,"  he  said.  "  But  let  me  get  the  carriage 
for  you  first;  you  ought  not  to  walk  home." 

"I  must  learn  to  walk  now,"  Mr.  Farnell  replied,  with 
pathetic  consideration  for  his  altered  state.  And  gathering 
up  with  decency  the  remnants  of  his  manhood,  he  departed 
from  the  place  where  he  had  reigned  so  long,  but  which  was 
to  know  him  no  more. 

William  watched  the  thick-set,  hea\y  figure,  jogging  slowly 
down  the  street  and  over  the  bridge ;  then,  turnmg  to  get  his 
hat,  met  Mr.  Emmons,  the  head  clerk. 

"Well,  Will,"  said  that  gentleman,  cheerfully,  "the  old 
order  of  things  has  passed  away,  and  a  new  and  better  order 
is  to  be  established.  This  is  Mr.  Daskill,  of  Goldfinch  & 
Co.,  Mr.  Farnell's  principal  creditors.  William  Rayburn,  Mr. 
Daskill." 

"Yes,  William  (how  are  ye?"  said  Mr.  Daskill,  in  a  pa- 
renthesis, giving  two  fingers)  ;  "a  more  satisfactory  condition 
of  things.  I  return  to  Buffalo  in  the  morning;  but  I  shall 
run  over  here  again  in  a  few  days,  and  see  to  matters.  Mean- 
time, I  have  conferred  on  Mr.  Emmons  full  authority." 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply,  the  man  who  talked  of  confer- 
ring authority  with  the  air  of  one  accustomed  to  dealing  in  that 
familiar  commodit}^,  drew  the  head  clerk  aside,  and  proceeded 
to  give  him  parting  instructions,  the  attentive  Emmons  assent- 
ing and  smirking  obsequiously.  It  angered  William  to  see 
Ward  Farnell  and  his  misfortunes  passed  over  so  lightly  by 
these  two  men  putting  their  heads  together ,  and  tossing  on 
his  hat,  he  walked  discontentedly  out  of  the  store. 

The  November  evening,  with  its  chill  air  and  overcast  sky, 
threatening  snow,  had  settled  down  so  early,  that  people  who 
met  and  recognized  the  well-known  stocky  figure  of  the  vil- 
lage merchant  on  his  way  home,  did  not  notice  the  despair  in 
his  face.  A  cheery  little  man  trudging  along  the  street,  with 
a  wood-saw  under  one  arm  and  a  saw-horse  under  the  other 


lO  FARNELL  S   FOLLY. 

(it  was  old-fashioned  Mr.  Wetherspun),  fairly  cringed  and 
grimaced  to  show  his  respect,  and  passed  on  happy  (as  poor 
Ward  Farnell  knew  too  well)  at  receiving  a  bow  from  the 
great  man  of  the  community. 

"What  will  he  think  —  how  will  he  greet  me  —  when  he 
finds  that  that  note  of  mine  isn't  worth  the  paper  it  is  written 
on?"  thought  the  bankrupt,  looking  forward  to  the  morrow, 
when  the  collapse  of  his  hollow  prosperity  should  be  known. 

Worse  than  the  povert)'  he  dreaded  was  the  shame  of  the 
descent  from  his  proud  position  ;  and  he  could  almost  envy 
the  lot  in  which  cheery  little  Mr.  Wetherspun  had  his  narrow 
being.  The  sight  of  his  own  home  did  not  relieve  his  anguish 
of  mind.  That  house,  which  his  pride  had  lately  so  outgrown, 
—  how  comfortable  and  altogether  home-like  it  appeared  to 
him  now!  Into  this  door  he  had  brought  his  newly  wedded 
wife  five-and-twenty  years  ago ;  and  here  his  children  had 
been  born.  What  a  haven  it  had  been  to  him  in  those  early 
days ;  how  full  of  hope  and  all  gracious  affections  !  The 
windows  were  full  of  light,  and  the  music  of  a  jDiano  reached 
his  ear. 

"  How  little  they  suspect ! "  thought  he,  as  he  slowly 
mounted  the  steps.  He  dreaded  to  go  in  ;  and  yet  the  misera- 
ble man  yearned  for  his  oldest  girl's  consoling  presence,  half 
forgettmg  the  pain  he  was  to  inflict  upon  her,  in  the  selfish  hun- 
ger of  his  heart  for  her  sympathy  and  support.  Instead  of 
gathering  strength  for  the  interview,  he  grew  shamefully  weak, 
and  went  tremblingly  forward  to  cast  the  burden  of  his  woes 
on  her. 

As  he  went  in  the  music  rushed  out,  in  suddenly  loud  and 
jubilant  strains.  From  the  entr}'  a  side-door  opened  into  a 
well-lighted  room,  where  Genevieve,  the  second  daughter,  a 
girl  of  sixteen,  sat  at  the  piano.  Julia,  the  oldest,  stood 
before  the  full-length  mirror  of  the  etagere,  between  brilliant 
lamps,  glancing  over  her  shoulder  at  the    reflection   of   her 


WARD    FARNELL    IS    NOT    WELL,    AND    WHY.  11 

elegant  bodice  and  silken  train.  Close  by  smiled  Miss 
Clewsey,  the  dress-maker,  severely  critical,  smoothing  here 
and  arranging  there  ,  while  Genevieve,  playing  mechanically 
her  airy  waltz,  cast  easy  side-glances  at  her  sister's  attire, 
and   offered   careless    comments. 

"Father!"  cried  Julia,  "come  here  and  tell  us  what  you 
think.     You  have  the  best  taste,  after  all." 

Yes,  Ward  Farnell  had  prided  himself  on  being  a  connois- 
seur in  the  matter  of  ladies'  dresses,  and  had  always  taken 
great  satisfaction  in  seeing  his  daughters  faultlessly  arrayed. 
But  it  was  heart-sickening  for  him  to  remember  all  that  now. 
She  had  a  glimpse  of  his  face  as  he  passed  on  into  the 
library,  and  her  own  changed  quickly.  "  I  will  see  you  up- 
stairs, "  she  said  to  the  dress-maker,  and  swept  out  of  the 
room  with   her  rustling  train. 

No  lamp  was  lighted  in  the  library,  but  a  wood-fire  in  the 
chimney  made  a  pleasant  blaze,  and  in  its  flickering  gleam 
father  and  daughter  met.  He  had  sunk  down  in  a  deep  arm- 
chair, with  his  overcoat  on  and  his  hat  pitched  over  his  eyes, 
in  an  attitude  of  the  deepest  dejection.  She  came  rustling 
to  his  side,  fair  and  tall,  in  her  golden  hair  and  magnificent 
golden-green  robe,  and  bent  over  him,  removing  his  hat, 
while  he  passed  his  hand  over  his  head,  as  if  purposely  to 
disarrange  his  gray  locks  and  give  a  finishing  touch  to  the 
picture  of   misery  he  felt  himself  to   be. 

"  Father,"  she  said  anxiously,  "what  is  it.^  your  business.-"' 
He  gave  a  despairing  nod.  "Oh,  I  suspected  it;  I  have  felt 
that  something  was  wrong ! "  See  was  on  her  knee  beside 
him,  her  silken  train  brushing  the  dead  cinders  of  the 
hearth.     "Is  it   very   bad?" 

"Bad  as  possible  !  "  He  lifted  his  sunken  head  and  looked 
at  her  with  large,  deep-set,  hopeless,  haggard  eyes.  I  am 
afraid  he  regarded  himself  as  the  central  pathetic  figure  of 
the  scene,  and  experienced  a  wretched  satisfaction  in  work- 


12  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

ing  it  up  melodramatically.  She  remained  silent,  with  a 
calm,  but  white  and  frightened  face,  while  he  went  on  bro- 
kenly :  "  I  don't  know  what  is  going  to  become  of  us.  It  is 
an  utter  wreck ;  nothing  left." 

The  calm  white  face  hardened  to  a  severe  and  almost  ter- 
rible expression.  But  it  was  a  beautiful  face,  still  ■,  fair, 
strong,  delicate,  slightly  aquiline,  and  full  of  sweetness,  even 
in  its  intensity  of  gaze. 

"Why  have  you  gone  on  in  this  way?"  she  demanded,  as 
she  rose  and  threw  back  her  tram.  "  Why  have  n't  you  told 
me  before.'" 

This  was  not  quite  what  the  weak-hearted  old  man  (for  he 
seemed  such  an  old  man  now !)  had  looked  for.  It  threw  him 
back  on  the  poor  remains  of  his  manhood,  and  he  answered 
in  a  somewhat  less  helplessly  broken  way, — 

"  I  didn't  want  to  alarm  you,  daughter.  I  wished  to  spare 
you  pain."' 

"  But  how  much  better  to  have  alarmed  me  in  season,  to 
have  given  me  pain  !  You  have  let  us  go  on  making  up 
dresses  we  shall  never  wear,  you  have  gone  on  sinking  money 
in  that  great  house  we  shall  never  live  in,  when  you  must  have 
known ! " 

"  I  didn't  know  ;  I  hoped  until  this  very  afternoon  that  I 
might  get  through  in  some  shape." 

She  swept  impatiently  across  the  room,  but  came  back  and 
stood  again  beside  him  in  the  firelight. 

"But  when  you  saw  the  danger  —  for  you  must  have  seen 
it!  I  know  now  why  3'Ou  have  appeared  so  troubled!  —  you 
might  at  least  have  stopped  some  of  our  expenses." 

"You  don't  understand,"  said  Ward  Farnell,  complainingly. 
"  If  I  had  done  that,  people  would  have  surmised  the  reason ; 
it  would  have  injured  my  credit  and  brought  on  just  what  I 
hoped  to  avert.  You  are  the  last  person,  daughter,  who  I 
thought  would  blame  me.     You  know  it  was  for  you  and  the 


WARD    FARNELL    IS    NOT   WELL,    AND    WHY.  1 3 

girls  I  built  the  new  house,  not  for  myself;  and  now,  to  have 
you  —  "     Here  the  old  man  whimpered  outright. 

"Father,"  replied  Julia,  "I  don't  mean  to  blame  you.  and 
I  won't  say  another  word."  She  stood  for  a  moment,  holding 
her  forehead  with  both  hands,  then  drew  them  back  with  a 
firm  pressure  across  her  temples,  putting  on  a  resolutely  gen- 
tle expression.  "  If  misfortune  has  come,  we  can  meet  it. 
Father!"  —  her  expression  softened  still  more,  as  she  bent 
down  her  eyes  and  saw  how  crushed  and  disconsolate  he  was, 
—  "  we  have  a  great  deal  left  yet.  You  are  left  to  us  ;  we  are 
left  to  you.  Your  honor  is  left ;  for  you  have  not  failed  in 
business  to  make  yourself  richer;  everybody  must  see  that. 
Now,  wait  till  I  have  stripped  off  this  finery,  and  we  will  see 
what  can  be  done." 

''God  bless  you,  daughter,"  snuffled  the  old  man. 


14  farnell's  folly. 


CHAPTER  II. 

WARD    FARNELL    IS    SOMEWHAT    BETTER. 

When  Julia  appeared  in  the  sewing-room  she  was  com- 
posed and  cheerful,  only  the  brightness  of  her  eyes  and  a 
faint  flush  on  her  cheek  betraying  any  excitement. 

The  artist  in  silks  saw  only  her  own  beautiful  handiwork, 
which  she  scanned  with  a  complacent  glance  from  throat  to 
trail,  as  she  asked,  "What  did  he  say  to  it?" 

"  Not  much  ;  he  is  not  well  to-night,"  Julia  replied.  "  Please 
help  me  off  with  it?  " 

Miss  Clewsey  looked  disappointed,  but  answered  that  he 
would  be  sure  to  like  it  better  when  the  trimming  was  finished. 

"Miss  Clewsey,"  said  Julia,  disrobing,  "you  have  said 
that  Mrs.  Fenway  wants  you,  and  I  have  concluded  to  let  you 
go  to  her  to-morrow.  I  will  pay  you  to-night;  I  can't  tell 
when  I  shall  want  you  again." 

The  universe  turned  round  very  fast  to  poor  dizzy  Miss 
Clewsey  for  a  few  seconds.  Looking  at  the  two,  you  would 
have  said  that  it  was  to  her  that  sudden  calamity  had 
come. 

Julia  returned  to  the  library  in  a  plain  dark  dress,  helped 
her  father  remove  the  overcoat  which  William  Rayburn  had 
helped  him  put  on,  and  sat  down  by  his  side. 

"  Shall  we  be  able  to  keep  this  house?"  she  quietly  asked. 

"  I  am  afraid  not.  Mr.  Carolus  has  a  mortgage  on  it,  and 
you  know  what  sort  of  a  man  he  is.  Goldsmith  &  Co.  have 
mortgages  on  everything  else.  They  have  placed  Mr.  Em- 
mons in  charge  of   the  store.     While   he  was  in  my  confi- 


WARD    FARNELL    IS    SOMEWHAT   BETTER.  1 5 

dence  he  was  in  correspondence  with  them.     I  beheve  the 
man  is  a  villain !  " 

The  bankrupt  roused  up  a  little  as  he  said  this ;  it  was  a 
comfort  to  have  somebody  to  blame.  In  a  business-like  wav 
Julia  inquired  about  the  smaller  debts. 

"I  owe  people  for  borrowed  money.  Mr.  Wetherspun,  for 
one,  three  hundred  dollars ;  the  Wmtergreen  sisters,  about  half 
as  much,  Widow  Rayburn,  —  I  don't  remember,  —  two  hun- 
dred dollars  and  some  interest." 

"Our  own  neighbors!"  said  Julia.  She  thought  she  had 
schooled  herself  to  face  the  family  misfortune  unflinchingly, 
but  here  was  a  phase  of  it  she  had  not  foreseen.  The  Wmter- 
green sisters  had  barely  enough  to  live  on  with  economy  and 
prudence.  Widow  Rayburn  was  William's  mother.  —  another 
poor  woman,  though  a  sister  of  rich  old  Mr.  Carolus.  These 
confiding  people  had,  for  safety,  intrusted  their  money  to  the 
merchant ;  and  it  was  to  prevent  them  from  taking  alarm  that 
he  had  continued  to  bring  home  costly  silks  to  his  girls.  Had 
he,  after  all,  escaped  without  dishonor  ? 

But  even  this  must  be  met  with  fortitude.  After  a  brief 
struggle  with  herself,  Julia  asked, — 

"  Does  William  know  ?  " 

"  I  told  him  to-night ;  he  was  expecting  it." 

"  How  did  he  take  it }  " 

"  Like  the  noble  fellow  he  is.  Not  a  word  about  my  debt 
to  his  mother  or  his  own  wages." 

"  If  he  was  expecting  it,  I  think  he  ought  to  have  taken 
care  of  his  mother's  interest." 

"  He  did  what  he  could,  "  said  Ward  Farnell.  "  He  came 
to  me  some  days  ago,  and  asked  if  it  was  convenient  for  me 
to  pay  her ;  if  not,  he  wanted  me  to  give  my  word  that  she 
should  n't  suffer." 

"And  you  gave  it  ?  " 

"I  think  I   said,  'Of  course,   Will';  or,   'Oh,  certainly'; 


i6  "  farnell's  folly, 

something  of  the  kind.  I  hoped  to  pull  through.  If  I  had 
foreseen  the  result,  I  might  have  made  my  arrangements, 
failed  at  the  right  time,  and  saved  something." 

Julia  looked  at  him  with  amazed  blue  eyes     "  Father  !  " 

"  It 's  the  way  people  do,"  he  explained.  '*  Men  should 
take  care  of  their  own  families." 

"  It 's  not  the  way  for  you  to  do.  Father,  we  can  bear  to 
be  poor,  but  not  to  lose  our  self-respect." 

"  But  what  are  we  to  do }  I  have  neither  money  nor  credit 
to  begin  business  again.  I  am  cast  out,  a  wreck,  in  my  old 
age.  Nothing  before  me,  as  I  see,  but  trundling  a  wheel- 
barrow, or  the  poorhouse.  A  hard  position  for  a  man  of  my 
habits  and  gray  hairs,  with  a  family  of  daughters  bred  up  in 
luxury.     Hard,  daughter !  " 

"There  are  other  things  harder  than  that,"  said  Julia. 
"  But  you  shall  not  trundle  a  wheelbarrow,  nor  go  to  the 
poorhouse.     I  will  see  to  that." 

"  You,  daughter  ?  "  said  Ward  Farnell,  with  a  stare  of  pity 
and  incredulity. 

"  I  '11  dismiss  the  servants,"  she  went  on,  with  clear  deci- 
siveness of  speech  and  look,  "  and  we  can  move  into  a 
smaller  house." 

"  After  all  our  plans  and  hopes ! "  groaned  the  bankrupt. 
"  A  meaner  house  instead  of  a  better !  " 

She  proceeded  fearlessly.  "  I  have  a  few  things  I  suppose 
I  can  call  my  own,  particularly  my  diamonds." 

"Yes,  yes,  my  daughter,"  he  answered  eagerly;  "the  law 
can't  touch  those." 

"They  shall  go  to  pay  your  poorest  creditors,  —  Mrs.  Ray- 
burn  and  the  Wintergreen  sisters,  at  any  rate."  He  groaned 
again,  but  did  not  reply.  "  The  girls  and  I  will  do  the  house- 
work, and  I  can  get  a  school ,  then  in  a  year  or  two  Gene- 
vieve can  teach  music." 

Having   disburdened   himself    and   found    so    strong    and 


WARD    FARNELL    IS    SOMEWHAT    BETTER.  I7 

Steadfast  a  support  in  Julia,  Ward  Farnell  was  beginning  to 
rise  from  the  depths ;  but  he  was  still  a  pathetic  figure  in  his 
owTi  eyes,  and  wished  to  remain  so  in  hers. 

"  No,  no,  daughter,"  he  said ;  "  I  can  never  stoop  so  low  as 
to  have  my  daughter  toil  for  me.  I  can  kill  myself,  but  I  can 
never  come  to  that." 

He  rose,  staggered  to  a  closet  (he  was  quite  willing  she 
should  see  that  he  staggered),  took  out  a  decanter,  and  filled 
a  glass. 

"  Some  hot  water,  daughter,"  he  said  in  a  feeble  voice  as 
he  sank  down  again  in  his  chair.  The  water  brought,  he 
mixed  and  stirred  his  grog  and  still  continued  in  the  pathetic 
line  of  business,  making  grimaces,  as  at  some  bitter  medicine, 
as  he  drank.  Then,  seeing  how  full  of  pity  her  face  was  as 
she  watched  him,  he  brightened  a  little. 

"Never,  daughter!"  —  finishing  the  glass.  "No  child  of 
mine  shall  ever  soil  her  hands  for  me.  You  are  the  finest 
lady  I  ever  saw,  if  I  do  say  it;  and  a  lady  you  shall  remain. 
You  shall  wear  your  jewels  and  your  silks." 

"  I  should  be  sorry  to  think  it  took  jewels  and  silks  to 
make  me  a  fine  lady,"  Julia  replied.  "  For  I  don't  see  how 
we  are  to  keep  them." 

Ward  Farnell  stirred  and  sipped  again,  not  quite  so  much 
as  if  the  grog  were  tansy  or  wormwood,  and  brightened  more 
and  more. 

"You  don't  know,  daughter.  I 'm  a  young  man  yet,  just 
in  my  prime.  Well  known  in  Buffalo  and  Rochester.  I 
can  go  to  either  of  those  places  and  set  up  a  commission 
store, — a  safe  and  profitable  business." 

Stir,  stir ;  sip,  sip.     Ward  Farnell  was  e\ddently  better. 

"Or  I  can  go  to  Europe  and  buy  goods  for  Stewart.  I 
am  one  of  the  best  judges  of  silks  in  the  country,  and  Stewart 
knows  it.  How  would  you  like  to  spend  a  few  years  in 
France,  daughter?     You  would  shine  in  French  societ}-.     Or 


l8  farnell's  folly. 

I  can  go  into  business  with  some  established  firm  where  my 
judgment  and  experience  will  be  considered  an  offset 
against  the  capital  invested.  You  know  something  of  my 
judgment   and   experience,  daughter." 

"  Yes,"  said  Julia,  thinking  the  sad  pass  these  fine  quali- 
ties had  brought  him  to  might  not  be  regarded  as  his  best 
recommendation.  He  was  going  on  again  when  she  inter- 
rupted him.     "  Tea  is  waiting  ;  will  you  go  out  ?  " 

"Yes,  —  well,  —  no,  my  daughter.  Bring  me  a  bit  of  toast; 
I  want  to  talk  with  you.  Who  is  that  asking  for  Mr.  Far- 
nell?" 

It  was  little,  old-fashioned  Mr.  Wetherspun. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Wetherspun  !  walk  along ;  you  're  the  very  man  I 
want  to  see." 

The  visitor's  beady  little  black  eyes  shone  with  excitement 
as  he  sputtered  forth,  "  I 've  just  heerd  —  bad  news,  if  it's 
true  !  I  *d  no  more  idee  on  't  'n  the  man  in  the  moon  when 
I  met  ye  this  evenin'.  I  "d  been  over  to  saw  a  little  wood 
for  the  Wintergreen  gals,  for  I  ain't  so  rich  nor  so  proud  but 
what  I  'm  willin'  to  crook  my  elbows  over  a  saw-hoss ,  and 
you  may  come  to  't  yourself  some  day,  if  what  folks  say  is  so." 

"  Sir!  "  said  Ward  Farnell,  majestically. 

"  No  offence.  I  hope  't  ain't  so.  I  've  come  over  to  see 
about  that  note  of  yourn,  Mr.  Farnell :  three  hundred  'n'  twelve 
dollars  'n'  thirty-seven  'n'  a  'alf  cents,  with  intrist.  I  hope 
the'  won't  be  no  trouble  'bout  that." 

"  No  trouble  at  all,  Mr.  Wetherspun.  There 's  a  little  hitch 
in  my  affairs  just  now.  But  it 's  only  temporary,  only  tem- 
porar)'." 

"  I  'm  glad  o'  that,"  said  the  little  man.  "Me  an'  the  Win- 
tergreen gals  was  a-talkin'  this  arternoon,  how  comf'table 
't  was  to  have  a  man  in  town  like  Ward  Farnell,  that  was  willin' 
to  'commodate  us,  by  takin'  any  little  sums  we  had  to  spare, 
an'  keep  'em  safe,  an'  pay  intrist  on  'em — " 


WARD   FARNELL    IS    SOMEWHAT    BETTER.  I9 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  the  bankrupt  impatiently.  "  You  shall  be 
paid  dollar  for  dollar.     Eventually.     I  may  ask  a  little  time." 

"  I  'd  ruther  have  my  money  to-night,"  said  the  frightened 
little  man.  "  Arter  what  we  've  heerd,  I  sha'n't  da's  to  go  hum 
to  my  wife  'ithout  them  three  hundred  'n'  twelve  dollars  'n' 
thirty  seven  'n*  a  'alf  cents ! " 

"  I  can't  very  well  arrange  to  pay  notes  out  of  business 
hours ;  a  man  of  sense  like  you  must  see  that."  Ward  Far- 
nell  laid  his  hand  in  a  pompous  and  patronizing  way  on  the 
bony  Wetherspun  shoulder.  "  There  '11  be  a  meeting  of  my 
creditors  in  a  few  days,  when  everything  will  be  satisfactorily 
arranged.  Take  that  comforting  news  home  to  Mrs.  Wether- 
spun, with  Ward  Farnell's  compliments." 

The  little  man  did  not  seem  to  think  the  news  would  prove 
so  very  comforting  to  the  partner  of  his  joys  and  sorrows ; 
and,  evidently  regarding  with  about  equal  concern  what  he 
would  have  liked  to  get  from  the  merchant,  but  could  n't,  and 
what  he  was  pretty  sure  to  receive  from  her,  whether  he  liked 
it  or  not,  he  trudged  sadly  away. 

Other  anxious  creditors  came  thronging  in,  all  of  whom 
were  graciously  assured  that  the  hitch  in  the  merchant's  affairs 
was  only  temporary,  and  that  everything  would  be  arranged. 
Genevieve  was  again  at  the  piano,  and  Hortense,  the  young- 
est, had  again  taken  up  her  French  lessons;  but  so  much 
passing  in  and  out,  and  loud  talking  in  the  library,  caused 
them  to  wonder  what  extraordinary  thing  was  taking  place. 
Julia  thought  it  time  for  them  to  know  something  of  it,  and 
called  them  into  her  room. 

Genevieve,  whose  soul  was  all  in  her  music,  listened  in  a  sort 
of  unbelieving  stupor  to  the  story  of  the  family  disaster,  and 
did  not  seem  fully  to  wake  up  to  the  reality  of  it.  Pretty  litde 
petted  Hortense  understood  more  quickly,  and  pursed  up  her 
lips  with  grief  when  told  that  they  could  not  now  hope  ever 
to  inhabit  the  new  house. 


20  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?  "  she  exclaimed,  petulantly ;  adding 
(deceived  by  Julia's  cool  demeanor  and  courageous  words), 
"You  act  as  if  you  didn't  care." 

"Oh,  my  dear  child!"  and  now  the  brave  girl's  voice  fal- 
tered, for  she  saw  that  she  was  to  bear  the  burden,  not  only 
for  her  father,  but  for  her  sisters,  too ;  "  I  can't  tell  you  how 
much  I  care,  for  his  sake,  yours,  and  Genevieve's,  I  say  what 
I  do,  because  it  is  better  to  know  the  truth  at  once.  There  's 
no  use  in  saying  or  trying  to  imagine  anything  else  than  that 
we  are  going  to  be  ver}^  poor;  but  I  shall  do  all  I  can  to 
make  the  change  easy  for  you;  and  you  must  do  all  you  can 
to  help  me  make  it  easy  for  our  poor  father.  He  has  been  a 
good,  kind  father  to  us;  and  now  I  fear  he  is  going  to  be 
very  much  cast  down.  Girls,  we  must  stand  by  him;  and  we 
must  stand  by  each  other.  Oh,  if  our  dear  mother  had  not 
died ! " 

Here,  in  spite  of  her  firm  resolution,  Julia's  voice  failed  her, 
and  she  who  had  not  seemed  to  care,  cried  like  any  foolish 
child. 


THE   TEMPORARY    HITCH    BECOMES    PERMANENT.        21 


CHAPTER    III. 
THE    TEMPORARV    HITCH    BECOMES    PERMANENT. 

Suddenly  cut  off  from  business,  and  deprived  of  the 
stimulus  which  his  very  struggle  against  misfortune  had 
supplied,  Ward  Farnell  was,  as  Julia  had  foreseen,  a  much 
broken  man.  To  dream,  to  boast,  to  complam,  to  excite 
s\TTipathy,  became  his  life  •.  and  it  is  hard  to  say  whether  he 
felt  greater  satisfaction  when  he  talked  glowingly  of  his 
schemes  for  the  future,  or  when  he  once  more  saw  the  poor- 
house  looming  dismally. 

The  promised  meeting  of  his  creditors  took  place,  and 
everythmg  was  certainly  in  due  time  arranged,  though  by  no 
means  to  the  satisfaction  of  some  old-fashioned  people  who 
held  to  narrow  views  of  honesty,  and  could  not  be  convinced 
that  they  had  been  cheated  in  a  perfectly  fair  and  honorable 
way. 

"The  idee,"  said  sour-faced  Mrs.  Wetherspun,  "of  oitr 
furnishin'  hi7n  money  to  put  on  to  the  backs  of  his  upstart 
hussies,  and  build  his  span-grand  Folly!  " 

"  Span-grand "  was  an  effort  of  Mrs.  Wetherspun's  own 
imagination.  But  the  "Folly"  —  alas!  that  term  of  pla}^ul 
contempt  had  been  popularly  bestowed  on  the  unfinished 
mansion  almost  before  the  last  Irishman  with  his  wheel- 
barrow left  the  grounds.  How  many  houses  with  like  his- 
tories, I  wonder,  similarly  christened,  as  "  Smith's  Folly,"  or 
"  Brown's  Folly,"  are  standing  in  the  land  to-day,  looking 
down  from  lonesome  hills,  sad  monuments  to  the  vanity  of 
their  founders  ? 


22  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

When  the  ripples  of  social  excitement  closed  over  Ward 
Farnell's  sunken  reputation,  to  be  stirred  again  a  little  when 
the  old  home  had  to  be  given  up  and  the  best  of  the  furniture 
sold,  —  including  the  piano,  which  Julia  had  been  so  anxious 
to  keep  for  Genevieve,  —  a  humble  little  house  on  Mill  Street 
received  the  exiles.  He  was  very  much  opposed  to  coming 
down  so  low;  but  while  he  smoked  his  pipe  and  talked  of 
reconstructing  the  family  fortunes,  she  quietly  carried  out  her 
plans.  Quietly,  but  with  untold  anxiety  and  endeavor.  It  was 
she  who  furnished  forethought  and  energy  for  the  whole  family. 
Her  father  was  almost  as  much  a  child  as  Hortense,  and  far 
more  impracticable,  with  his  endless  whims  and  objections; 
while  poor,  dazed,  dreamy,  inert  Genevieve  had  not  only  to  be 
told  at  every  turn  what  to  do,  but  supplied  with  the  will  and 
skill  to  do  It.  It  would  have  been  amusing  if  it  had  not  been 
so  pitiful  to  watch  that  full-cheeked,  fair  young  creature 
standing  appalled,  with  dangling  hands,  before  some  moun- 
tainous molehill  —  some  slight  household  task  which  Julia 
would  have  despatched  with  easy  tact  while  she  was  wonder- 
ing how  it  should  be  begun  ;  to  see  those  fingers,  accustomed 
to  no  ruder  contact  than  piano  keys,  shrink  from  soiling  them- 
selves with  the  dish-cloth,  just  touching  it  with  reluctant, 
dainty  tips  •,  to  note  the  time  she  gave,  when  time  had  be- 
come so  precious,  to  the  most  trifling  concerns,  —  as  if  she 
had  her  life  before  her  for  tying  a  ribbon,  and  all  eternity  to 
mend  a  glove  in.  Such  distressing  inefficiency  was  a  trial  to 
Julia,  who  often  found  it  easier  to  do  the  task  herself  than 
to  expend  time  and  strength  in  showing  and  urging,  and  per 
haps,  after  all,  not  getting  it  done. 

There  was  a  feeble  side  to  her  father's  character  which 
accounted  for  this  defect  of  Genevieve's.  Julia  never  quite 
understood  him  until  after  the  failure,  when,  reviewing  the 
past  by  the  light  of  new  experience,  she  used  to  wonder  if 
he  ever  would  have  accomplished  anything  in  life  without  her 


THE  TEMPORARY  HITCH  BECOMES  PERMANENT,    23 

mother,  for  it  was  with  marriage  that  his  prosperity  really 
began,  and  in  his  widowerhood  that  it  had  rapidly  declined 
He  was  one  of  those  men  who  owe  success,  perhaps  endur- 
ing fame,  to  an  influence  which  is  commonly  a  cipher  in  the 
world's  account  of  them,  while  it  multiplies  their  native 
capacity  tenfold,  —  the  inspiring  and  restraining  influence 
of  woman. 

Julia's  jewels,  meanwhile,  with  the  single  exception  of  a 
ring  that  had  been  her  mother's,  had  gone  secretly  to  a 
trustworthy  dealer  in  Buffalo  and  come  back  to  her  in  the 
shape  of  crisp  bank-notes.  These  she  hoarded  with  such 
privacy  and  used  with  such  discretion  that  not  even  her 
father  knew  by  what  means  the  family  flour  and  fuel  were 
supplied.  And  now  one  day  —  it  was  the  month  of  February 
—  she  came  home  from  a  walk  with  a  rosy  and  joyous  counte- 
nance, and  informed  him,  as  he  sat  smoking  by  the  kitchen 
fire,  that  she  had  at  last  got  what  she  had  been  so  long  seek- 
ing, —  a  situation.  He  took  the  pipe  from  his  mouth  and 
turned  upon  her  a  reproachful  look. 

"  Yes,"  she  went  on,  "  Miss  Hanson  is  to  be  married,  and 
I  am  to  have  her  place  in  the  seminar^'." 

He  could  hardly  have  seemed  more  hurt  if  she  had  said 
she  was  going  to  forsake  him. 

"  Daughter!  "  he  said,  after  a  solemn  pause,  "  it  is  prepos- 
terous !  Do  you  think  I  can  ever  consent  to  see  a  child  of 
mine  go  out  and  earn  her  living.? " 

Julia  answered  with  spirit,  "  Do  you  suppose  it  is  only  my 
own  living  I  am  going  to  earn  ?  Some  of  us  must  do  some- 
thing, and  that  soon.  I  am  to  teach  French,  history,  and 
English  composition ;  I  don't  see  why  that  is  worse  than 
working  hard,  as  I  have  to,  here  at  home.  Now  I  can  afford 
to  hire  the  hardest  of  our  housework  done." 

"  Daughter,  you  talk  very  cruelly  to  me,"  snuffled  Ward 
Farnell,  refilling  his  pipe.     "  An  old  man  like  me  !  "  —  crowd- 


24  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

ing  the  tobacco  into  the  bowl  with  his  forefinger.  "  After  all 
I  have  done  for  my  family,  now,  to  cap  the  climax  of  my  mis- 
fortunes, to  have  the  ingratitude  of  a  child  !  " 

"  Ingratitude  !  O  father  !  " 

"  My  best  days  are  over,  I  know.  I  'm  no  longer  cf  any 
account.  I  wish  I  had  died  when  your  mother  did ;  then  I 
could  have  left  you  a  fortune.  Now  I  have  left  you  only 
myself.     A  bad  legacy,  a  bad  legacy !  " 

"O  father!"  exclaimed  the  distressed  Julia,  "what  have 
I  said?" 

"  Nothing  but  the  truth ;  I  'm  a  cumberer  of  the  ground. 
I  can't  blame  you  for  wishing  me  out  of  the  way.  But  your 
mother  would  never  have  spoken  to  me  as  you  did,  daughter!" 

She  came  and  stood  beside  him,  while  he  fingered  his  pipe- 
bowl  and  heaved  prodigious  sighs. 

"Can't  you  understand  me,  father?  I  was  only  tr}'ing  to 
explain  that  it  is  necessary  for  one  of  us  to  earn  something. 
It  seems  to  me  that  I  am  that  one.  I  do  it  willingly,  more 
than  willingly.  I  can't  tell  how  glad  I  am  of  the  chance  to 
earn  ten  dollars  a  week  !  " 

"  Ten  dollars  a  week,  daughter  !  What  is  that  for  a  family 
like  ours  to  live  on  ?     How  little  you  know !  " 

"  It  's  a  small  amount,  to  be  sure.  But  it  is  better  than 
nothing,  father !  " 

"Nothing?"  said  the  old  man,  impatiently,  "Have  n't  I 
told  you  ?  I  am  going  to  launch  out  in  the  spring.  I  shall 
put  my  hand  to  the  wheel,  and  bring  the  family  fortunes  up  to 
the  level  where  they  belong."  And  reaching  forward,  he 
struck  a  match  on  the  stove. 

"I  hope  you  will,"  said  Julia;  "but  I  don't  see  just  how 
you  are  going  to  do  it." 

"  Why,  daughter ! "  Ward  Farnell  rose  to  his  feet  as  he 
hghted  his  pipe.  Puff,  puff.  "  There  are  a  hundred  things 
a  man  of   talent  and   enterprise  can  always  turn    his  hand 


THE    TEMPORARY    HITCH    BECOMES    PERMANENT.        2$ 

to.  I  can  go  to  New  York  any  day,  and  get  a  situa- 
tion as  walker  in  Stewart's  store.  I  am  sure  my  friend 
Stewart  would  be  glad  to  have  me  at  five  thousand  a  year, 
and  find  me  cheap  at  that."  His  eye  kindled  with  his  pipe, 
his  shadowy  schemes  expanded  with  the  smoke.  "  Why,  my 
daughter,  the  ver)^  poorest  thing  I  have  in  mind  is  to  go  to 
Lockport  and  engage  as  a  buyer  of  w-heat  for  one  of  the  great 
flouring-mills.  There  's  no  better  judge  of  wheat  in  the 
country.  The  moment  I  see  the  berry  I  see  the  flour  that 
can  be  made  from  that  bern,-.  I  go  out  in  the  street.  A 
load  of  grain  drives  up.  I  have  the  manners  of  a  gentleman ; 
everything  in  my  favor.  The  owner  shows  h:s  samples,  and 
I  say  instantly,  '  so  much,'  or  '  so  much.'  He  sees  at  once 
that  I  am  a  person  of  character  and  experience.  His  grain 
goes  to  our  mill,  and  I  look  out  for  the  next  load.  A  very 
pretty  and  gentlemanly  emplo}TTient,  daughter.' 

"  I  think  so,"  replied  Julia,  Avithout  enthusiasm,  however, 
having  '•  thought  so  "  of  so  many  of  his  schemes  that  she  was 
beginning  to  find  her  own  answers  to  him  disheartening. 
"  But  in  the  mean  time  why  not-  let  me  undertake  this  ? " 

Ward  Famell  puffed  and  meditated.  "Well,  temporarily, 
daughter,  if  your  mind  is  set  on  it.  But  understand!"  He 
held  out  his  pipe  and  regarded  her  with  pious  solemnity. 
"It's  a  matter  of  principle;  no  daughter  of  mine  shall  toil 
for  her  living,  or  soil  her  hands  for  me!" 

Having  said  this  with  strong  emotion,  he  sat  down  again, 
put  his  feet  on  the  stove-hearth,  winked  away  something 
which  resembled  a  tear  as  the  mist  resembles  the  rain,  and 
puffed  his  consolatory  pipe. 

At  the  same  time,  in  sight  of  the  ver)'  eye  that  winked, 
Julia  took  a  pail  from  the  sink,  went  out  through  a  badly 
shovelled  path  to  the  well,  drew  Avater  and  lugged  it  in,  with 
much  toil  and  peril  of  slipping,  and  lifted  the  full  pail  again 
to  the  shelf,  before  the  parental  eyelids  were  well  dried. 


26  farnell's  folly. 


CHAPTER    IV. 


WILL    AND    MARIAN. 


That  evening  William  Rayburn  from  the  store  came  to 
the  house.  He  had  never  been  in  the  habit  of  making 
friendly  calls  in  the  family:  much  as  he  admired  Julia  at  a 
distance,  he  was  sensitive  and  reserved,  and  would  never 
venture  so  far  in  the  old  days  when  he  was  Ward  Farnell's 
clerk.  Wouldn't  the  .successful  merchant  have  stared  v/ell  to 
see  even  the  best  of  his  "boys"  drop  in  of  an  evening  in  a 
familiar  way?  It  would  have  required  more  assurance  than 
Will  Rayburn  possessed  to  meet  the  look  of  surprise  with 
which  he  would  then  have  been  met,  —  which  would  have 
said  with  embarrassing  plainness,  "Well,  my  lad!  what  busi- 
ness brings  you  here  at  this  hour?" 

The  "lad''  was  about  threc-and-twenty,  taller  by  half  a 
head  than  Ward  Farnell  himself,  and  yet  not  very  tall ;  with 
a  face  that  lighted  up  with  something  between  bashfulness 
and  pleasure  as  Julia,  lamp  in  hand,  received  him  in  the  en- 
try. He  tried  to  slip  something  into  the  other  hand  which 
she  gave  him,  but  she  laughingly  drew  it  back. 

"I  didn't  think  this  of  you!"  he  said  in  a  tone  of  playful 
yet  tender  reproach,  "to  take  advantage  of  my  mother  as  you 
did  to-day.  You  surprised  her  into  accepting  this  money, 
but  now  she  agrees  with  me  that  you  must  take  it  back." 

"But  /  don't  agree  with  you,  by  any  means!"  she  replied. 
"It  is  only  a  part  of  the  debt.  I  should  have  paid  so  much 
of  it  before,  if  I  had  known  how  we  were  to  be  situated,  and 
I  shall  pay  the  rest  when  I  can.  But  /le  need  know  nothing 
about  it,"  —  with  a  glance  at  the  closed  door  behind  her,  low- 


Wri.L    AND    MARIAN.  2J 

ering  her  voice.  "I  also  paid  the  Wintergreen  sisters  a  part 
of  their  debt  to-day,  —  as  soon  as  I  knew  I  was  to  have  a  sal- 
aried situation.'' 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  to  have  that.  Still,  you  must  take 
back  this  mone}',"  William  insisted.  "It  doesn't  belong  to 
you  to  pay  it ,  you  need  it  more  than  we  do." 

"I  need  to  relieve  my  mind  of  it  more  than  anything,"  she 
replied  with  radiant  satisfaction.  "  Come,  William,  be  good, 
and  I  will  promise  you  one  thing.  If  I  find  I  really  need  it 
I  will  let  you  know,  and  borrow  it  again,  —  if  you  will  trust 
me."  On  the  strength  of  this  promise  he  discontentedly  put 
the  money  into  his  pocket.  "Now  won't  you  come  in  and  see 
father?     He  is  lonesome  these  Ions:  evenintrs." 

As  she  threw  open  the  sitting-room  door,  Ward  Farnell 
looked  around  at  the  visitor  with  none  of  the  questioning, 
imperious  stare  which  might  have  been  expected  of  him  in 
his  prosperous  days. 

"Why,  bless  me!  Will  Rayburn !  This  is  an  unexpected 
pleasure ! " 

"We  are  near  neighbors  now,"  said  \^'ill,  as  if  the  mer- 
chant's changed  circumstances  had  nothing  whatever  to  do 
with  the  matter  which,  pleasure  or  not,  was  so  unexpected. 

Ward  Farnell  answered  with  less  delicacy,  taking  his  feet 
from  a  chair  which  ha  offered  the  visitor,  and  putting  away 
his  pipe.  "Yes,  William,  neighbors.  I  wouldn't  have  be- 
lieved that  ever  my  family  would  have  come  down  so  far  as 
to  take  a  cottage  on  Mill  Street !  My  enemies  have  treated 
me  with  the  utmost  rigor,  Ward  Farnell  had  got  to  be  hum- 
bled. But  I  am  not  humbled.  Ward  Farnell  is  prouder 
than  ever,  and  has  reason  to  be." 

"  I  think  you  have  very  good  reason  to  be,"  Will  answered, 
glancing  around  the  room,  which  the  hand  of  taste  had  made 
so  neat  and  comfortable,  and  considering  what  a  treasure  the 
old  man  had  in  his  daughters. 


28  farnell's  folly. 

"Aye,  aye!  the  old  lion  ain't  dead  yet.  They'll  hear  him 
roar  before  long."  And  the  king  of  beasts  put  out  his  paw 
with  an  imposing  gesture.  "  They  '11  hear  him  roar,  and  be 
astonished.  You  '11  wake  up  some  fine  morning  and  see  my 
daughters  once  more  where  they  belong,  —  in  that  new  house 
on  the  hill.  Fact,  William.  Mum 's  the  word.  Wait  till 
3'ou    see    us   there." 

"Certainly,  —  till  I  see  you  there,"  said  William,  a  good 
deal  surprised. 

"I  predict,"  said  Ward  Farnell,  with  a  gleam  of  satisfac- 
tion, "  that  your  big  man  Daskill  and  his  man  Friday, 
Emmons,  will  run  the  business  into  the  ground  within  a 
year,  and  that  it  will  come  back  into  my  hands.  It  stands 
to  reason.  They  don't  know  how  to  manage  it.  I  am  the 
only  man  who  ever  did  know  how  to  manage  it.  You  're 
aware   of  that,   William." 

William  admitted  that  he  was  very  well  aware  of  the  man- 
ner in  which  Ward  Farnell  had  managed  his  affairs. 

"That  Daskill  is  full  of  brag;  but  shallow,  shallow! 
What 's  more  disgusting  than  to  see  so  much  brag  and  pom- 
posity crop  out  in  a  man  without  any  substratum  of  solid 
ability  ? " 

William  did  not  reply.  Julia,  who  had  taken  her  seat  by 
the  table  with  some  sewing  in  her  hands,  bent  over  it  with 
a  blush.  A  light  knock  at  the  street  door  was  heard  just 
then ;  there  was  a  rustle  in  the  entr}',  an  outburst  of  girlish 
voices,  laughter  and  whispering;  then  in  came  Genevieve, 
drawing  a  reluctant  companion  after  her. 

"It's  Marian  Fenway,  Julia!  When  I  told  her  you  had 
company  she  was  going  to  run  off  again." 

A  charming  young  girl  now  came  frankly  forward,  her 
fresh  and  vivacious  features  flashing  smiles.  She  turned 
quickly  from  one  to  the  other,  saying, — 

"O    Julia!     I've  heard  such  good  news! — How  do  you' 


WILL    AND    MARLON.  29 

do,  Will? — It's  SO  kind  in  you,  Mr.  Famell,  to  let  her 
come  up  and  put  a  little  life  into  that  old  seminar}- !  She 
is  to  be  my  teacher,  you  know.  I  just  ran  in  to  tell 
you  how  ghid  I  am,  Julia.  I  didn't  know" — with  a 
shy  glance  a':  Will  —  "you  had  company." 

" I  hope  )ou  were  not  going  to  run  ofE  again  on  my 
account,"  said  Will.  "  That  would  n't  be  worth  while ;  I 
am   just  going  myself." 

"No,  no  !  sit  down,  both  of  you,"  said  Julia.  And  she 
gave  Miss  Fenway  a  seat  near  Will.  The  two  looked  at 
each  other  inquiringly  for  a  moment,  and  then  both  laughed; 
she  with  fascmating  sweetness,  he  with  a  joy  that  beamed 
out  from  his  candid,  generous  face,  as  if  in  spite  of  some 
grave  resolution.  "  Come  !  I  want  you  to  be  friends," 
Julia  whispered.  Here  was  e\idently  a  little  romance  of 
the  heart  of  which  she  knew  the  secret. 

"  Yes,"  said  Ward  Famell,  "  it  was  a  sacrifice,  but  I  gave 
my  consent.  Julia  needs  something  to  occupy  her  mind,  and 
she  thought  she  would  like  to  teach.  Only  temporarily,  you 
understand.  A  girl  of  her  powers  must  find  an  outlet  for 
them  somewhere.  There's  not  a  more  thorough  scholar 
or  more  competent  manager,  of  her  sex,  in  the  whole  coun- 
tr)-.  She  graduated  at  the  seminar}-,  and  they  know  what 
she  is." 

Julia  laughed.  "  I  don't  know  that  my  brain  is  quite  ready 
to  burst  with  a  sense  of  unused  powers !  but  one  thing  I  am 
sure  of,  the  necessity  of  earning  some  mone}-."  Since  the 
failure  she  had  show^n  herself  resolutely  opposed  to  any 
attempt  at  false  appearances,  and  she  would  not  countenance 
even  her  father  in  that  foolishness.  "Now,"  she  added,  "we 
can  hire  a  piano  for  Genevieve." 

"^^^ly  don't  you  let  her  come  in  and  use  mine?"  said  Miss 
Fenway.     "  I  should  be  delighted  to  have  her." 

"She  is  to  have  a  piano  of  her  own,  and  a  fine  one,"  said 


30  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

Ward  Farnell,  emphatically.  "This  lull  in  our  affairs  is  only 
transient,  merely  transient ;  I  am  making  my  plans."  So  say- 
ing, he  walked  out  into  the  kitchen,  where  presently  might 
have  been  heard  the  suggestive  tinkle  of  a  spoon  stirring  in  a 
glass. 

Marian  and  Will  were  not  quite  at  ease  with  each  other; 
lovers  who  have  quarrelled  seldom  are.  Miss  Fenway  chatted 
awhile,  then  rose. 

"My  minute  is  vip  —  I  only  ran  out  for  a  minute;  the  boys 
were  coming  this  way  with  their  sleds.     I  must  flit  back." 

"You  are  not  going  alone?  "  said  Julia. 

"Why  not?"  cried  Marian. 

"  Because,"  Will  interposed,  "  I  am  going  with  you  if  you 
will  let  me." 

"Take  you  away  from  Julia?  No,  no!  "  said  Marian  gayly. 
"Goodnight." 

But  Will  followed  her  out.  He  came  to  her  side  as  she 
was  tripping  along  the  trodden  snow  in  the  white  and  starry 
night. 

"We  can  be  good  friends  between  here  and  your  house, 
can't  we  ?  "  he  said. 

"I  don't  see  why  we  can't  always  be  friends,"  she  replied 
with  a  tender  little  laugh,  as  she  suffered  him  to  draw  her 
hand  within  his  arm  and  press  it  there  ever  so  softly. 

"Then  why  were  you  going  to  hurry  off  again  as  soon  as 
you  found  I  was  in  the  house  ?  " 

She  tipped  her  little  Grecian  nose  up  at  him  in  the  snow 
light,  with  an  arch,  fond  smile. 

"  I  supposed  you  did  n't  want  to  see  me,  you  have  avoided 
me  so  of  late !  " 

"But  you  know  why  I  have  avoided  you.  Marian!" — a 
strong  emotion  was  beginning  to  master  his  tones — "I  don't 
understand  you.  Sometimes  you  are  so  kind  to  me,  and  then 
suddenly — for   no  cause  that  I  can   see — you  are  so  cold. 


WILL   AND    MARIAN. 


31 


You  know  all  my  heart;  you  know  what  I  would  have,  and 
until  you  can  make  up  your  mind  to  say  plainly  yes  or  no  to 
me,  I  had  better  keep  away  from  you  —  I  must  keep  away! 
I  can't  endure  the  torture  any  longer," 

"Why,  Will!  I  don't  mean  to  be  anything  but  kind  to  you." 

"  I  know  you  don't.  And  if  you  obeyed  your  own  heart,  I 
believe  you  would  say  yes  to  me,  once  for  all,  and  with  all 
your  heart,  to-night.  What  is  your  mother's  great  objection 
to  me  ? " 

"  You  are  not  a  religious  man.  O  Will ! "  said  Marian  softly, 
"if  you  could  only  meet  with  a  change  of  heart!  " 

"  I  would  if  I  could.  I  would  do  anything  to  gain  heaven 
— that  is  you!"  said  Will  ardently. 

"  Will  Rayburn !  "  The  words  gave  her  a  delicious  thrill,  yet 
she  felt  it  her  duty  to  reprove  him.     "  Don't  talk  profanely." 

"Not  at  all.  I  am  simply  talking  sincerely.  I  can't  con- 
ceive of  any  better  heaven,  or  any  that  would  be  heaven  with- 
out you.     You  don't  like  to  hear  me  say  that." 

"Yes,  I  do!"  she  replied,  with  enchanting  frankness. 
"But  you  mustn't;  it  is  wrong — and  here  we  are  at  our 
gate." 

"  Don't  go  in  yet,"  Will  pleaded.  "  Let 's  take  a  little  walk, 
the  evening  is  so  pleasant." 

"  What  will  my  mother  say  ? "  she  whispered  as  she  yielded. 

"I  don't  care,"  said  Will,  and  led  her  along  the  creak- 
ing path,  between  the  silent  house  and  the  wayside  elms 
standing  still  and  bare  in  the  snow.  For  a  while  only  their 
own  footsteps  were  heard,  with  now  and  then  the  shouts  of 
children  coasting  down  a  neighboring  street,  and  the  mur- 
mur of  water  not  far  off.  They  crossed  a  bridge,  beneath 
which  the  stream  flowed  cold  and  black  between  its  snow-cov- 
ered banks ;  and  kept  on  up  High  Street, 

"  Your  mother  don't  understand  me,"  Will  resumed.  "  I 
am  not  an  irreligious  man.     I  don't  know  just  what  you  mean 


32  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

by  a  change  of  heart ;  but  if  it  is  to  have  spasms  of  conscience, 
or  fear,  and  talk  in  meeting,  and  tell  folks  what  a  sinner  I  am, 
hoping  all  the  while  they  won't  believe  me  —  " 

"  Oh,  it  is  n't  that !  "  she  interrupted  him. 

"  I  have  all  my  life  had  serious  thoughts  about  heaven  and 
about  God,"  he  rejoined.  "  When  I  was  a  mere  child,  not 
more  than  nine  or  ten  years  old,  I  used  to  lie  on  the  ground 
and  look  up  through  the  trees  into  the  sky,  and  think  about 
time  and  space  and  my  own  existence,  until  my  soul  fairly 
achedj\'ith  the  effort  to  reach  the  origin  and  meaning  of 
things.  What  questions  I  asked  myself !  Who  were  my  own 
parents,  friends,  and  playmates  ?  Were  they  real  persons,  or 
only  pictures  ?  Was  the  world  itself  anything  but  a  picture 
given  me  for  my  development  ?  Or  was  I  myself  merely  a 
dream  ?  At  one  time  I  was  a  frightful  little  egotist ;  then 
again  I  doubted  my  own  reality.  But  I  suppose  everybody 
has  had  such  fancies  in  childhood ;  no  doubt  you  have  had." 

"  I  can't  say  I  ever  have.  And  I  think  you  must  have  been 
a  remarkable  child." 

"  I  had  those  mental  struggles.  And,  Marian,  —  I  never 
told  anybody  before,  but  I  will  tell  you,  —  I  used  to  pray.  I 
can  remember  walking  in  the  woods  and  praying  aloud  in 
childish  agony  of  spirit  that  I  might  know  the  very  truth  about 
what  I  heard  preached,  promising  to  live  that  truth  at  any 
sacrifice,  if  it  were  shown  me." 

Then  they  walked  on,  talking  of  other  things.  "  How 
lonesome  poor  old  Mr.  Farnell's  house  looks  up  there  !"  said 
Marian.  "What  a  pity  he  couldn't  have  it  finished  according 
to  his  taste,  or  Julia's  !  It  would  have  been  just  such  a  home 
as  the  dear  girl  ought  to  have." 

"  I  don't  know,"  Will  replied.  "  I  think  I  like  her  better 
where  she  is." 

"What  a  lovely  girl  she  is!"  exclaimed  Marian.  "I  am 
surprised,  Will,  that  you  don't  admire  her  more." 


WILL   AND    MARIAN.  33 

"I?     I  admire  her  extremely.     Never  so  much  as  now." 

"  Do  you  know,"  Miss  Fenway  confessed,  with  a  charming 
little  laugh,  "when  I  saw  you  there  to-night,  I  thought  —  per- 
haps—  since  you  didn't  come  to  see  me  any  more  —  you 
were  going  to  be  just  a  little  bit  in  love  with  her?" 

Will  did  not  laugh.     He  was  singularly  grave. 

'  If  I  were  in  love  with  a  girl  like  her,  it  would  n't  be  just 
a  little  bit;  she  is  one  to  call  out  the  best  which  the  very  best 
man  has  to  give.  I  might  have  been  as  foolish  as  so  many 
other  young  fellows  have  been,  but  for  somebody  else  I  know." 
And  he  gave  the  little  hand  on  his  arm  a  little  squeeze. 

"  Perhaps  it  would  n't  have  been  so  foolish  in  you  as  in 
them.  She  and  I  have  had  many  confidential  talks  —  about 
you,  sometimes.  I  know  she  has  always  liked  you ;  for  one 
thing  particularly." 

"  What  is  that?  Let  me  know  the  virtue,  so  that  I  may  cul- 
tivate it." 

"I'm  willing  to  tell  you,"  laughed  Marian,  "since  the  more 
you  cultivate  it  the  more  you  can't  have  her.  Does  that  sound 
paradoxical?  Well,  she  told  me  once  that  she  liked  you  espe- 
cially because  you  did  n't  make  haste  to  offer  yourself  to  her, 
as  all  the  other  young  men  did." 

"Then,  when  I  do  offer  myself  to  her,"  said  Will,  "I  shall 
do  it  deliberately,  and  not  in  haste." 

"Do  you  mean  it?"  asked  Marian,  alarmed  at  his  serious 
tone,  the  mere  thought  of  Julia's  drawing  him  away  quick- 
ening her  appreciation  of  him  in  a  wonderful  degree. 

"  Mean  it?  You  know  this,"  Will  exclaimed  fer\-ently ;  "as 
long  as  you  are  kind  to  me,  no  other  w'oman  in  the  world  can 
come  between  us." 

"  I  will  be  kind ! "  murmured  Marian  with  thrilling  sweetness. 

"Does  that  mean  you  will  say  that  little  word  to-night?" 

"Oh!   I  can't  to-night." 

"When,  then?     To-morrow  night?" 

3 


34 


FARNELL  S   FOLLY. 


"Yes,  —  perhaps." 

"  You  will  say  yes  or  no  !  " 

"  I  think  so ;  I  hope  so ! "  said  Marian  with  a  fervor  of  tone 
which  told  plainly  enough  which  of  the  little  words  it  would  be. 

She  renewed  this  promise  at  her  father's  door,  and  sealed 
it  with  something  sweeter  for  the  moment  than  the  coveted 
word  itself. 

"  To-morrow  night,  then ! "  said  Will  at  parting.  "  O  Marian ! 
now  be  true  to  yourself  and  me ! " 

"  I  will ! "  was  her  last  word  to  him  :  the  last  he  was  to  hear 
from  those  lips  for  many  a  day.  If  she  had  known  that, 
would  she  have  fluttered  down  with  so  happy  a  heart  in  her 
soft  nest  that  night  ?  Or,  had  it  seemed  possible  to  him, 
would  he  have  gone  home  through  the  winter's  ice  and  snow 
with  all  the  flowers  and  birds  of  spring  blossoming  and  sing- 
ing in  his  soul  ? 


THE    MISSION    OF   A   BLACK   DOG.  35 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE   MISSION    OF    A    BLACK    DOG. 

When  Marian  Fenway  woke  the  next  morning  and  thought 
of  her  mother,  she  was  afraid  that  in  giving  Will  even  that 
promise  of  a  promise  she  had  gone  too  far.  Not  that  Mrs. 
Fenway  wished  her  daughter  absolutely  to  dismiss  the  young 
man,  for  the  time  might  come  when,  notwithstanding  his  lack 
of  piety,  it  might  be  highly  convenient  to  accept  his  offer,  if 
no  better  was  to  be  had. 

It  grieves  me  to  say  that  the  young  lady  had,  at  this  date, 
other  suitors,  more  or  less  in  earnest,  whom  she  neither  decid- 
edly encouraged  nor  actually  repelled,  but  kept  within  call, 
according  to  mamma's  wise  precepts.  She  was  young  yet; 
and  had  nature  given  her  such  graces  of  person,  and  had  her 
parents  bestowed  such  pains  and  expense  on  her  education, 
sending  her  latterly  to  be  finished  in  the  highest  style  of 
feminine  accomplishments  at  Miss  Maybloom's  famous  semi- 
nary, that  she  might  place  her  lovely  hand  at  last  (it  was  a 
lovely  hand  and  she  knew  it)  in  that  of  a  common  clerk  or 
mechanic  ? 

"  How  absurd  !  "  said  little  Mrs.  Fenway, 

But  does  the  auctioneer  make  haste  to  inform  the  first 
moderate  bidders  for  his  goods  that  they  had  better  go  home? 
Does  he  not  rather  invite  competition? — "  Look  at  the  article, 
gentlemen  ;  it  does  n't  cost  anything  to  admire  it,"  —  keeping 
the  interest  up  and  the  hammer  suspended  until  the  best  bid 
is  in.  Wide-awake  Mrs.  Fenway  would  have  made  a  very 
good  auctioneer.     True,  she  had  suffered  her  older  daughter 


36  farnell's  folly. 

to  throw  herself  away  on  a  pedler;  but,  then,  Lottie  never 
was  such  a  girl  as  Marian  ! 

Thoughts  of  her  mother  on  one  side,  and  on  the  other  of 
Will  commg  that  evening  for  his  final  answer,  filled  Miss 
Fenway's  fond  but  timid  heart  with  a  sweet  trouble  all  that 
day.  In  her  class  she  appeared  absent  and  dreamy,  and  on 
her  way  home  she  walked  apart  from  her  companions,  who 
wondered  what  made  her  so  silent  and  so  grave.  Was  she 
thinking  of  her  imperfect  recitations,  or  pondering  the  excel- 
lent advice  Miss  Maybloom  had  just  been  giving,  without 
extra  charge  (being  about  the  only  thing  she  ever  did  give 
without  extra  charge),  to  certain  young  ladies  of  her  school  ? 

She  carried  home  her  text-books  for  study,  or  pretence  of 
study,  in  the  evening,  —  French,  history,  and  English  litera- 
ture, with  pencilled  exercises  on  loose  leaves  slipping  out 
between  the  covers.  But  hidden  among  these  was  a  little 
note,  the  contents  of  which  were  more  to  her  than  all  the 
schools  and  all  the  books  in  the  world.  She  had  read  it 
already  many  times,  but  now  she  must  peep  at  it  again. 

"  Do  you  think  of  to-night  as  I  do  ?  Do  you  think  of  our 
parting  last  night  1  O  Marian  !  you  will  be  true.  I  know.  Do 
not  let  anybody  influence  you  for  a  moment  against  the  prompt ifigs 
of  your  own  pure,  beautiful,  unselfish  soul.  Forgive  me  for  say- 
ing that;  it  is  needless.  I  am  sure.  I  only  set  out  to  write  one 
Utile  word  as  a  relief  to  my  heart,  which  is  so  full  of  hope  and 
happiness  that  I  am  aching  to  tell  you  of  it  every  hour  and  every 
mifiute  of  the  dayl' 

Again  and  again  she  pored  over  these  words,  so  insipid  to 
the  unsj^mpathizing  reader,  but  so  delicious  to  her. 

"  Nobody  ever  loved  me  as  he  does,"  she  said  to  herself, 
"and  I  am  sure  I  shall  never  love  anybody  else  as  I  do  Will ! 
I  am  glad  he  is  coming  and  that  it  is  to  be  all  settled  to-night. 
Poor  mamma ! "  and  she  gave  a  little  tender,  half-frightened 
laugh. 


THE    MISSION    OF    A    BLACK    DOG.  3/ 

"Marian!  Marian!"  called  two  or  three  gay  voices,  start- 
ling her  from  her  re\'ery ;  and,  looking  up,  she  saw  her  com- 
panions standing  in  front  of  the  Folly  beckoning  to  her. 

"  What  will  you  give  us  ? "  they  said  as  she  came  up.  "  We 
have  found  your  lost  dog.     There  he  is  I " 

"  Franco  I  "  cried  Marian,     "  Come  here,  Franco  !  " 

But  the  dog,  having  taken  his  station  beside  one  of  the 
lions  that  flanked  the  steps  of  the  Folly,  did  not  stir.  She 
commanded  and  coaxed,  but  he  only  turned  his  head  lazily, 
winked,  and  sat  still.  The  other  girls,  thinking  he  might  be 
shy  of  them,  walked  on,  while  Marian,  tripping  up  the  icy 
avenue  to  the  house,  patted  and  poor-fellowed  him  vivaciously, 
all  to  no  purpose.  She  might  as  well  have  tried  to  persuade 
one  of  the  couchant  lions  on  guard  to  step  down  and  follow 
her. 

While  she  was  thus  occupied,  the  door  of  the  abandoned 
house  opened  and  a  stranger  appeared.  He  lifted  his  hat 
politely,  and,  seeing  what  she  was  trying  to  do,  stood  on  the 
porch  and  watched  her  with  an  amused  smile. 

"  Can't  you  prevail  on  him  to  go  with  you  ? ''  he  asked. 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  can't." 

"  He  must  be  a  stupid  fellow !  I  don't  see  how  he  can 
possibly  resist  such  an  invitation  ;  I  am  sure  I  could  n't." 

"If  you  please,  will  you  speak  to  him?"  said  Marian. 
"Perhaps  he  will  mind  you.     Call  him  Franco." 

"Franco?"  repeated  the  man,  lifting  his  eyebrows  with  a 
curious  expression.  ''  Certainly  ;  I  '11  call  him  Franco  if  you 
wish.     Here,  Franco  1 '" 

The  dog  jumped  up,  turned  round,  looked  at  him  inquir- 
ingly, wagging  his  tail,  and  saying  as  plainly  as  a  dog's  eyes 
and  tail  could  say,  "  I  don't  just  understand  this  joke."  Then 
he  sat  down  again. 

"  He  minds  me,  3'ou  see."  And  the  stranger  stood  in  the 
porch,  provokingly  cool  and  complacent,  still  watching  her. 


38  farnell's  folly, 

Marian  blushed  red  as  a  rose,  not  knowing  whether,  under 
the  circumstances,  she  appeared  very  ridiculous  or  very 
charming. 

She  felt  that  she  was  undergoing  the  scrutiny  of  no  com- 
mon man.  He  could  not  simply  stand  in  the  porch  there 
without  showing  by  his  attitude  and  air  that  he  was  a  person 
of  importance  and  knowledge  of  the  world.  How  resolutely 
erect  he  bore  that  aggressive  head  of  his  on  the  well-curved 
neck  and  easy  shoulders !  Not  handsome,  but  there  was  that 
about  him  which  goes  further  in  society,  and  especially  with 
women,  than  any  fineness  of  feature.  And  Marian  thought 
him  young  *,  misled,  perhaps,  by  the  airy,  youthful  manner  of 
him,  and  not  observing  the  white  threads  in  his  thick,  dark 
beard  and  the  marks  of  old  experience  about  his  eyes. 

"  If  I  go,  too,  perhaps  he  will  follow,"  he  suggested. 

"  I  wouldn't  put  you  to  so  much  trouble,'*  Marian  replied. 

"  But  it  would  be  no  trouble  at  all,"  he  said,  "  Come, 
Franco  !  "     And  Franco  came  obediently, 

"  How  provoking !  to  see  him  mind  you,  while  he  pays  not 
the  least  attention  to  me  ;  naughty  Franco  !  "  And  she  shook 
her  reproving  finger  at  him,  coquettish  even  with  the  dog.  "  I 
am  very  jealous !  " 

"  You  need  n't  be.  Dogs  always  take  to  me  ;  I  have  a  sort 
of  magnetic  power  over  animals.  Ah,  pardon  !    you  will  slip  !  " 

In  the  most  graceful  and  gallant  manner  the  stranger 
placed  his  hand  beneath  her  arm  and  helped  her  over  the  ice. 
How  flattered  and  pleased  she  was  by  such  attentions  from 
such  a  man  !  Where  was  the  sweetly  troubled  look  her  pretty 
downcast  features  wore  but  a  little  while  ago  ? 

"This  place  is  delightfully  situated,"  the  gentleman  re- 
marked, looking  back  at  the  Folly.  "Poor  Farnell  would 
have  made  something  fine  here  if  his  means  had  held  out.  I 
rather  like  that  French-chateau  style  of  house.  And  he  has 
planned  his  walks  and  groves  ver)'  well ,  though  I  would  n't 


THE    MISSION    OF    A    BLACK    DOG.  39 

have  had  that  clump  of  Nonvays  where  they  are  ;  they  will 
eventually  hide  the  view.  His  cascade  —  I  suppose  it  is 
meant  for  a  cascade  —  looks  like  a  bit  of  badly  constructed 
bank-wall ;  it  is  going  to  be  a  good  deal  of  trouble  to  bring 
the  water  to  it.  He  has  shown  a  great  deal  of  taste,  however. 
I  am  rather  surprised  at  it  in  a  man  like  Ward  Farnell." 

"  It  is  more  his  daughter's  taste  than  his  own,"  said  Marian. 
"Julia  Farnell  is  a  girl  of  wonderful  talents." 

"Ah?"  said  the  stranger,  noticing  the  enthusiasm  with 
which  she  spoke  of  her  friend.  "  She  must  be  an  extraordi- 
nary' person." 

"  Oh,  she  is !  and  the  most  beautiful  girl  there  is  in  this 
little  corner  of  the  world  !  " 

"  I  don't  see  how  that  can  well  be  !  "  And  the  stranger  gave 
Miss  Fenway  a  remarkably  expressive  look. 

She  appeared  not  even  to  have  heard  this  adroitly  shot 
arrow  of  a  compliment  sing  past  her;  while  it  was  quivering 
in  her  foolish  little  heart. 

"  It  is  very  lovely  up  here  in  summer,"  she  said,  de- 
murely. 

"  It  must  be ;  the  view  from  those  terraces  is  superb,  even 
in  winter.  How  pretty  your  village  looks,  nestled  down  there  ! 
and  the  frozen  mill-pond,  and  the  stream  coming  in  through 
those  wooded  hills !  If  I  were  only  a  married  man,  I  believe 
I  'd  take  this  place  and  fit  it  up  for  my  summer  residence." 

"  I  wish  somebody  would  fit  it  up  and  live  in  it,"  said 
Marian.     "  It  would  be  so  delightful !  " 

As  she  glanced  back  at  the  unfinished  mansion,  an  intoxi- 
cating dream  arose  and  overspread,  with  its  perfumed  wings, 
the  young  girl's  life.  Was  it  her  mother's  subtle  teaching,  or 
her  own  apt  heart,  which  made  her  so  quick  to  catch  up  and 
translate  into  golden  possibilities  the  words  the  stranger  had 
let  fall  ? 

"  I  should  like  no  better  amusement  for  a  year  or  two,  than 


40  FARNELL  S    FOLLY, 

just  to  make  a  little  paradise  out  of  Farnell's  Folly.  It  might 
easily  be  done,"  said  the  gentleman,  confidently. 

"  If  marriage  is  a  necessary  qualification,  I  should  think 
you  might  easily  qualify  yourself,"  Miss  Fenway  replied. 

The  stranger  took  his  hat  quite  off,  as  he  thanked  her; 
saying  it  was  encouraging  to  hear  so  favorable  a  judgment 
from  such  lips ;  and  they  both  laughed ;  and  Marian,  to  con- 
ceal her  pleasure  and  her  blushes,  looked  back  again  and 
said,  "  Is  Franco  coming  ?  yes,  here  he  is." 

"  Oh,  he  '11  come  fast  enough !  I  never  should  have  built 
such  a  house  myself,  especially  in  such  an  out-of-the-world 
place  as  this."  (That  made  Marian  quite  ashamed  of  her 
poor  little  "out-of-the-world"  village.)  "It  is  too  far  from 
the  great  centres  of  life  and  business.  If  it  was  within  an 
hour's  drive  of  Buffalo  or  Chicago,  it  might  bring  something 
near  its  cost,  if  I  should  conclude  to  sell  it." 

Then  Marian,  it  seemed,  was  talking  with  the  present  pro- 
prietor of  the  Folly!  How  interesting!  What  would  the 
girls  say,  if  they  knew? 

"One  might  spend  one's  summers  here  ver}'-  pleasantly, 
though.  I  like  the  village  pretty  well,  all  but  the  trip- 
hammers. I  woke  this  morning,  dreaming  that  a  flock  of 
fanning-mills  flew  over  my  head;  and  it  was  their  uncon- 
scionable noise." 

"They  are  —  rather  noisy,"  said  Marian,  apologetically. 
She  did  not  add  that  the  trip-hammers  were  her  father's.  It 
seemed  to  her  very  coarse  and  vulgar  to  have  trip-hammers, 
just  then. 

Talking  in  this  pleasant  way,  and  getting  better  and  better 
acquainted,  they  kept  on  down  High  Street,  and  through  the 
village,  until  they  came  to  Brook  Street. 

"We  live  on  this  street,"  Marian  said.  "I  think  Franco 
will  go  with  me  now.     I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you." 

But  the  dog  still  obstinately  refused  to  go  with  her  alone, 


THE    MISSION    OF    A    BLACK    DOG.  4I 

—  just  as  the  stranger  expected.  He  laughed  and  said,  "If 
you  mean  to  take  him  home,  I  don't  see  how  you  can  help 
in\-iting  me.'' 

"If  you  will  be  so  kind,"'  she  replied.  "It  is  only  a 
few  steps."  Then  she  scolded  the  shaggy  brute  again: 
"  Naughty  boy !  to  give  the  gentleman  so  much  trouble." 

The  Fenways  lived  in  a  large,  low-roofed,  quaint  old  house, 
which  had  never  looked  so  mean  in  Marian's  eyes  as  it  did 
that  afternoon,  when  she  brought  the  supposed  proprietor 
of  the  Folly  to  the  door.  "  Of  course  I  could  never  expect 
him  to  call  on  me  here,"  she  thought,  as  she  thanked  him 
again  for  his  kindness,  and  tried  to  call  the  dog  in. 

"  I  shall  have  to  go  in,  too ! "  he  laughed. 

And  Marian,  fluttering  between  perplexity  and  delight, 
showed  him  into  a  large,  comfortable  sitting-room,  the  dog 
following.  Then  the  least  she  could  do  was  to  invite  him  to 
be  seated  while  she  secured  the  animal ;  and  he  sat  down 
before  the  cheerful  blaze  of  an  old-fashioned  fireplace. 

"I  will  take  him  into  the  kitchen  and  shut  him  up,"  said 
Marian. 

"  To  do  that,  I  'm  afraid  you  '11  have  to  take  me  into  the 
kitchen,  and  shut  me  up,  too!" 

"  No  ;  I  '11  manage  him  now  !  " 

She  brought  a  strap,  and  felt  for  the  dog's  collar,  which 
his  shaggy  mane  nearly  concealed,  and  was  preparing  to  fas- 
ten him  by  it ;  stooping  over  him,  her  curls  almost  touching 
his,  and  her  whole  attitude  and  expression  wonderfully  ani- 
mated and  engaging,  when  she  suddenly  drew  back,  with  an 
exclamation,  — 

"Why!  his  collar  has  been  changed !  What  name  is  this? 
'A.  Da  skin r' 

"  That  is  my  name,"  said  the  agent  of  Goldfinch  &  Co., 
with  a  quiet  smile,  handing  out  his  card. 

"And  —  the   dog?"  ejaculated  Marian,   recoiling  with  as 


42  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

pretty  a  horrified  expression  as  ever  face  of  lovely  maiden 
wore. 

"  It  is  my  dog,  Romeo." 

"  Oh  !  "  —  throwing  up  her  hands  with  a  delightful  little 
scream  —  "  why  did  n't  you  tell  me  ? " 

"  You  did  n't  ask  me.  You  seemed  to  have  taken  a  fancy 
to  him,  and  I  was  quite  willing  he  should  go  with  you, — 
more  than  willing,  indeed,  since  it  was  necessar}^  I  should  go 
too." 

Mr.  A.  Daskill  seemed  greatly  to  enjoy  the  pleasantry  in 
his  quiet,  polite  way ;  while  Marian,  covered  with  confusion 
and  blushes,  looked  again  at  the  dog,  thinking  there  must 
be  some  mistake,  he  was  such  an  image  of  Franco.  But  just 
then  the  true  Franco  bounced  through  the  entry  and  into  the 
room,  followed  by  an  excited  small  boy,  shouting,  — 

"  Marian  !  I  've  found  our  dog  !  Here  's  Franco  !  Hello ! 
what  big  dog  is  that  ? " 

"  Romeo,  be  still !  "  said  Mr.  Daskill,  as  the  two  Newfound- 
lands began  to  sniff  and  growl  at  each  other,  looking  enough 
alike  to  have  been  long-separated  twin-brothers. 

"  Want  to  let  'em  fight  .■'  say,  mister  !  let  'em  fight .? "  said 
the  boy,  preparing  to  back  his  dog  with  a  very  considerable 
wager. 

"  Stop  your  nonsense  !  "  said  Miss  Fenway,  with  recovered 
self-possession,  since  the  appearance  of  the  true  Franco  was 
sufficient  to  convince  Mr.  Daskill  that  she  had  been  innocent 
of  any  covert  designs  on  either  him  or  his  dog.  "  Frank,  this 
is  Mr.  Daskill.  (Take  off  your  cap  !)  We  have  had  Franco 
only  for  a  short  time  ;  and  we  had  lost  him  once  before." 

"  Oh,  but  he  did  n't  run  away  this  time ! "  cried  Frank,  patting 
his  namesake's  back.  "  I  found  him  up  in  Cragin's  old  bam  ; 
and  don't  you  think,  that  rascal  of  a  Tom  had  stole  him,  and 
got  a  big  chain  around  his  neck,  and  was  going  to  sell  him, 
and  we  never  should  have  seen  hide  or  hair  of  him  again, 


THE    MISSION    OF    A    BLACK    DOG.  43 

only  Will  Rayburn  told  me  that  he  heard  a  dog  howl  over 
there,  and  I  got  dismissed  and  went  over  and  found  him,  and 
did  n't  I  give  Tom  a  rap  on  the  shins  with  his  darned  old 
trace-chain  !  Say !  my  dog  can  lick  that  dog,  mister,  bet  you 
a  million  dollars  !  " 

Marian  turned  both  the  boy  and  his  dog  out  of  the  room. 
Then  Mr.  Daskill  took  his  hat. 

"  Romeo  was  always  a  faithful  animal,"  he  said,  in  a  tone 
too  sincere  for  mere  compliment ;  "  but  he  never  did  me  better 
service  than  when  he  introduced  me  to  your  acquaintance, 
which,  with  your  permission  "  (holding  Miss  Fenway's  hand), 
"  I  shall  hope  to  cultivate." 

"  It  will  give  me  great  pleasure  ;  —  if  I  can  ever  forget  how 
ridiculous  I  made  myself !  "  said  Marian,  with  sweet  modest)-, 

"  You  have  not  made  yourself  anything  but  extremely  in- 
teresting and  agreeable,  I  assure  3-ou  !  " 

Mr.  Daskill  looked  into  her  eyes  with  a  steady,  dilating, 
radiant  expression  in  his  own,  as  he  said  this.  Although  she 
veiled  her  consciousness  of  it  by  softly  dropping  her  lids,  it 
was  easy  to  see  that  she  was  not  displeased. 

Then  he  said,  "  I  shall  do  myself  the  honor  of  calling 
again  before  I  leave  town.  Come,  Romeo  !  "  Exeunt  Daskill 
and  dog. 


44  FARNELLS    FOLLY. 


CHAPTER   VI. 


MARIAN     AT     HOME. 


"  For  mercy's  sake,  IMarian,  who  under  the  sun  was  that  ? " 
cried  a  round  Httle  red-faced  woman,  bustling  into  the  room, 
with  pins  in  one  corner  of  her  mouth  and  hooking  her  belt  by 
the  way.  "  I  hurried  to  change  my  dress  and  put  on  a  collar ; 
but  I  was  just  too  late  !  " 

Marian,  who  had  dropped  into  an  easy-chair,  and  sat  look- 
ing with  an  intense,  dreamy  expression  at  the  fire,  heaved  a 
sigh,  and  with  a  smile  and  a  pretty  shrug  of  her  graceful 
shoulders  gave  the  gentleman's  card. 

'' AdolpJiHS  DaskilU  Why,  ain't  that  the  Bufifalo  man?" 
said  the  little  woman,  out  of  the  side  of  her  mouth  that  was 
free  from  pins.     "  Where  did  yon  make  his  acquaintance  ?  " 

Marian  broke  into  a  laugh.  "  It 's  the  funniest  adventure  ! 
Will  you  believe,  ma  ?  he  is  the  new  owner  of  the  Folly,  and 
he  says  he  would  fit  it  up  for  a  summer  residence  if  he  was 
only  a  married  man ;  and  he  is  just  as  nice  and  polite  as  he 
can  be  ! " 

"  Do  tell  me  !  I  want  to  know  now  if  he  is  !  "  said  Mrs. 
Fenway,  with  excited  hand  sticking  pins  in  her  collar.  "  And 
rich  ?  Though  he  must  be  rich,  if  he  has  bought  the  Folly ! 
How  did  you  meet  him  ?     I  'm  dying  to  know  !  " 

"  It  was  so  ridiculous !  You  see,  I  thought  his  dog  was 
our  dog;  and  I  was  coaxing  and  pulling  and  patting  him,  to 
make  him  go  with  me,  when  a  gentleman  c^me  out  of  the 
Folly.  It  was  Mr.  Daskill.  He  never  told  me  it  was  his  dog 
at  all,  but  said  he  thought  he  would  be  more  willing  to  go 
with  me  if  he  went,  too ;  and  he  never  gave  me  a  hint  of  my 


MARIAN    AT    HOME.  45 

mistake  until  we  had  got  into  this  house.  Then  Frank  came 
in  with  Franco,  and  there  were  two  dogs  instead  of  one  !  " 

"  Why,  how  absurd  !  "  said  Mrs.  Fenwa3^  "  But  I  hope  — 
is  he  really  a  desirable  acquaintance  ? " 

Marian  gave  an  expressive  little  nod.  Then  the  two  fell  to 
whispering  about  I  scarce  know  what,  except  that  the  names 
of  Will  Rayburn  and  "  this  ]\Ir.  Daskell  "  and  of  divers  other 
gentlemen  were  overheard  by  little  black  Nance  in  the 
kitchen ;  when  Master  Frank  burst  in  again  at  an  unlucky 
moment,  interrupting  the  conversation 

"  Say,  Marian  !  what  big-feeling  chap  was  that  ?  straight  as 
if  he  'd  swallowed  a  beanpole  !  That  bosom-pin  of  his  beat  the 
Dutch,  but  his  shirt  was  n't  over  'n'  above  clean,  and  oh,  my ! 
what  a  stiff,  stand-up  paper  collar !  I  bet  he  's  a  traveller, 
and  slept  in  his  shirt  and  put  on  a  dicky  he  carried  in  his 
hat,  when  he  got  up  this  morning.  That  's  my  opinion  of 
him." 

"  I  wish  you  would  learn  to  hold  your  tongue,  Frank  Fen- 
way !  "  said  Marian.  "  I  never  was  so  ashamed,  as  when  you 
broke  out  so  coarsely  and  said  you  'd  bet  a  million  dollars 
your  dog  could  lick  the  other  one  ! " 

"Well,  you  just  bring  Franco  alongside  a  dog  of  his  size  — 
I  don't  care  if  he  is  a  little  bigger  —  and  let  me  rub  his  ears 
and  say  '  sick,'  —  that  's  all !" 

"  I  '11  '  sick '  you  !  "  said  Mrs.  Fenway,  with  a  sudden  flash 
of  temper.  "  There  !  "  —  a  smart  box.  "  Now  rub  your  own 
ears,  and  see  how  you  like  it !  Let  me  hear  of  your  showing 
such  manners  to  Marian's  company  again,  and  see  what  you  'II 
get." 

"  I  swan  !  "  muttered  Frank,  rubbing  one  ear  and  one  eye, 
and  shaking  his  head  resentfully  as  he  withdrew  towards  the 
kitchen.     "  I  '11  set  him  on  to  you  some  day  i  " 

"  What 's  that,  sass-box  ?  " 

His  mother  made  a  dash  at  him.     But  he  was  prepared  for 


46  farnell's  folly, 

her  this  time.  He  was  never  afraid  of  her  except  when  she 
was  angry,  and  now  he  had  stinging  evidence  that  her  temper 
was  up. 

"  Sass-box  yourself !  "  he  shouted  back  to  her  as  he  es- 
caped through  the  kitchen  and  slammed  the  door  in  her  face. 

Mrs.  Fenway,  rushing  out,  was  just  in  time  to  see  him  run 
off  with  Franco  and  his  sled,  fling  himself  upon  the  latter, 
head-foremost  and  heels  up,  and  go  speeding  down  the  icy 
hillside  and  out  on  the  frozen  pond,  the  frantic  Franco  bark- 
ing and  plunging  after  him,  and  then  helping  him  draw  the 
sled  back  up  the  hill ;  which  operation  she  did  not  wait  to 
witness,  but,  returning  to  the  kitchen,  caught  black  Nance  — 
always  a  convenient  safety-vent  for  the  good  lady's  temper 
—  and  played  an  extremely  lively  if  somewhat  dissonant  tune 
upon  that  humble  instrument. 

"There!  take  that,  you  good-for-nothing!  I'll  teach  you 
better  manners  than  to  giggle  at  me  1  " 

And,  leaving  the  weeping  innocent  to  pick  up  the  teakettle 
(scarce  blacker  or  wetter  than  her  own  tearful  face)  which 
she  had  been  filling  at  the  sink,  and  which  had  been  over- 
turned in  the  onset,  Mrs.  Fenway  swept  back  into  the  sitting- 
room  and  finished  her  conference  with  Marian  as  calmly  and 
comfortably  as  if  nothing  unusual  had  happened. 

Indeed,  it  may  be  said  that  nothing  unusual  had  happened, 

"My  little  woman's  temper,"  tall  Miles  Fenway  used  good- 
humoredly  to  say,  "  goes  off  at  a  touch,  like  a  fire-cracker ; 
then  in  half  a  minute  the  house  will  be  as  quiet  as  a  Quaker 
meeting,  unless  she  has  left  some  of  us  yelping." 

"  I  'm  quick  mad,  and  quick  over  it ;  quick  hot,  and  quick 
cold  again,"  the  little  woman  herself  had  been  heard  to  con- 
fess, or  rather  boast,  for  she  seemed  to  think  it  no  such 
unmeritorious  trait.  "I  never  lay  up  anything;  I  hate  an 
Injun  disposition  !  I  don't  think  I  ever  struck  one  of  my 
boys  in  my  life  without  I  was  put  out  at  something.     A  word 


MARIAN   AT   HOME,  47 

and  a  blow,  and  then  laugh  and  make  up  —  that 's  me ! " 
And  she  took  her  little  pinch  of  snuff,  and  smiled  compla- 
cently at  herself,  little  considering  the  effect  of  the  word  and 
blow  upon  those  who  lacked  the  happy  faculty  of  being  hot 
and  then  cold  again  in  an  instant.  The  philosophical  Miles 
Fenway,  who  was  not  subject  to  violent  heats,  did  not  often 
experience  the  necessity  of  getting  cool ;  and  Marian,  the 
favorite,  could  never  do  anything  wrong  in  her  mother's  par- 
tial eyes.  But  poor  Lottie,  so  sensitive  to  feel  an  injury,  and 
so  slow  to  forget  —  what  had  she  not  suffered  from  the  sharp 
maternal  tongue  and  sudden  hand  ever  since  the  days  of  her 
earliest  recollections,  when  she,  a  hungry-hearted,  wondering 
child,  rocked  little  baby  Marian  in  the  cradle,  and  got  all  the 
cuffs  and  frowns,  while  the  new-born  princess  received  all  the 
praises  and  favors !  And  Walter,  the  elder  son,  now  fifteen, 
by  nature  gifted  with  much  of  his  father's  good  humor  and 
honest  sense,  what  made  him,  often  for  days,  so  sullen  and 
so  silent? 

Frank  and  black  Nance,  with  their  light  hearts,  made  the 
best  of  their  little  domestic  tribulations ;  of  course,  despising 
madam's  authority,  and  fearing  only  her  rage.  They  had 
learned,  by  constant  practice,  to  keep  a  sharp  look-out  for 
squalls,  reefing  sails,  or  running  for  port,  when  they  saw  one 
coming,  and  laughing  when  its  fury  was  spent.  On  the  pres- 
ent occasion,  Nance  was  singing  again  in  a  few  minutes,  set- 
ting the  supper-table  ;  and  Frank,  having  forgotten  his  wrongs 
in  the  excitement  of  sliding  down  hill  (the  New  England 
term  coasting  had  not  yet  reached  Waybrook),  returned 
whistling  home,  put  up  his  sled,  and  came  into  the  house  as 
fearlessly  as  if  mamma  had  been  an  angel. 

"  Frankie  dear,"  she  remonstrated  with  him  affectionately, 
"I  wouldn't  slide  down  that  hill  the  way  you  do.  Ever)' 
time  I  see  you,  I  expect  nothing  in  the  world  but  that  you 
will  get  a  broken  neck." 


48  farnell's  folly. 

"  I  'II  risk  all  the  broken  necks  !  just  as  if  I  could  n't  take 
care  of  myself ! "  said  Frankie  dear,  scornfully. 

"  Well,  do  be  careful !  Now  wash  your  hands  and  face, 
and  get  ready  for  supper." 

"  Can't  I  have  a  piece   of   pie,  first  ?      I  'm  all-fired  hun- 

"  I  '11  give  you  a  piece  if  you  won't  say  all-fired  again." 

"  Well,  I  won't."  Then,  as  soon  as  he  had  got  the  pie  and 
taken  a  bit,  he  mumbled  forth  laughingly,  with  his  mouth 
full,  "  This  is  allfired  good,  though,  ma  !  "  And  he  tossed  a 
fragment  of  the  crust  to  Franco,  to  see  him  catch  it. 

"  What  a  boy  you  are  !  "  said  his  mother. 

Just  then  Walter  came  in.  It  was  one  of  his  silent  days. 
Mamma  had  boxed  his  ears  without  due  cause  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  he  had  hardly  spoken  since. 

"Why,  sonny!"  she  said,  sweetly,  "seems  to  me  you  are 
very  late  to-night.  You  have  n'  t  been  to  school  all  this  time, 
have  you  ? " 

Walter  said  "No,"  briefly;  and  without  moving  a  kindly 
muscle  of  his  face  to  show  that  his  griefs  were  forgotten  or 
forgiven,  took  down  a  blue  frock  that  hung  over  the  wood- 
box  and  put  it  on,  and  went  out  and  brought  in  great  armfuls 
of  wood  for  the  evening  fires.  His  task  ended,  he  took  off 
his  frock  and  hung  it  up  again.  Then  he  looked  across  the 
kitchen  stove  at  Frank  playing  with  the  dog  in  the  corner, 
and  said :  — 

"  See  here,  boy!     Have  you  fed  the  pigs  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Frank. 

"That's  your  business,"  said  Walter.  "  It 's  rather  late  in 
the  day  to  hear  them  squeal." 

"  Yes,  Frankie  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Fenway,  pleased  to  hear  the 
silent  one  speak  again,  and  almost  foolishly  eager  to  concili- 
ate him.  "  Walter  is  right.  Run  and  feed  the  pigs ;  that 's 
a  good  boy !" 


MARIAN    AT    HOME.  49 

"  Darn  the  pigs  !  "  said  Frank,  going  reluctantly.  "  I  don't 
see  why  I  should  feed  'em  ;  I  don't  eat  pork.  Come,  Fran- 
co ;  you  must  help." 

Cheered  by  the  prospects  of  the  dog's  pleasant  company 
and  powerful  assistance,  he  went  out ;  while  Walter,  exchang- 
ing his  boots  for  a  pair  of  old  slippers,  took  a  book  and  a 
slate,  and  proceeded  to  study  to-morrow's  arithmetic  lesson 
by  the  sitting-room  fire. 

And  now  Mr.  Fenway,  coming  to  the  house  by  the  back 
way,  found  Frank  with  a  pail  of  swill  on  his  sled,  which  he 
was  trying  to  make  Franco  draw  by  the  sled-rope  tied  to  his 
collar.  "  Get  up  !  whoa  !  gee  !  "  he  was  saying  ;  and  the 
swill  was  slopping  at  every  start  and  hitch. 

"  Frank,  take  up  that  pail  and  carry  it,"  said  his  father. 

"  I  can't ;  it 's  so  full,"  said  Frank  ashamed,  beginning  to 
unfasten  the  dog. 

"  Then  take  half  the  quantity,  and  go  twice." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Frank  cheerfully ;  that  firm,  kind  tone  of 
command  effecting  more  with  him  than  all  his  mother's  fitful 
blustering  and  teasing. 

Supper  was  now  ready.  Frank  came  in  from  feeding  the 
swine,  and  submitted  to  the  necessity  of  washing  his  hands  a 
second  time,  much  to  his  disgust. 

"  That  makes  twice  I  've  washed  'em !  I  won't  wash  'em  at 
all  to-morrow,  to  pay  up  for  it! "  he  said  to  himself. 

Mrs.  Fenway  tinkled  the  tea-bell  in  her  sharp  way,  —  she 
had  a  quick,  sharp  way  of  doing  almost  ever}'thing,  —  and 
her  tall  husband,  having  slipped  his  feet  into  a  pair  of  old 
shoes,  and  his  powerful  spare  arms  into  a  comfortable  house 
coat,  took  his  seat  at  the  table ;  his  well-grizzled  locks  wetted 
by  recent  washing  and  freshly  brushed  back  from  his  fore- 
head, and  his  open  shirt-collar  exposing  the  hardy  working- 
man's  sinew}'-  and  hairy  neck. 

Frank,  at  a  look  from  his  father,  got  off  the  dog's  back 
4 


50  FARNELL  S   FOLLY. 

and  hopped  up  into  his  chair.     Then  Marian  appeared,  oh, 

so  lovely!  with  fair,  sweet  face,  of  complexion  clear  pink- 
and-white,  as  her  mother  boasted,  and  with  hands  that  had 
never  been  reddened  by  housework,  very  sure.  And  Walter 
stalked  to  his  place. 


MRS.    FENWAYS    TEA.  5 1 


CHAPTER  VII. 

MRS.  Fenway's  tea. 

Mr.  Fenway  waited  for  Nance  to  stop  rattling  the  milk- 
pail  she  was  taking  from  the  pantry  as  she  started  to  milk  the 
cow.  There  was  a  moment's  serious  pause,  —  only  Frank 
reaching  slyly  around  and  playing  with  Franco's  nose  behind 
his  chair ;  then  Mr.  Fenway  said,  in  a  deep,  earnest  voice,  his 
simple  grace. 

Almost  before  the  brief  prayer  was  ended  and  his  face 
lifted  again,  smart  Mrs.  Fenway  commenced  rattling  the 
teacups  and  pouring  the  tea.  Mr.  Fenway  looked  for  his 
knife,  then  glanced  around  the  table ;  the  risible  muscles 
of  his  mouth  began  to  draw  and  pucker,  as  he  remarked 
dr)-ly,  — 

"  Are  we  expected  to  eat  anything,  wife,  or  is  this  only  show- 
bread  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  what  we  take  the  trouble  of  getting  supper 
for — and  it's  no  small  trouble,  I  assure  you  —  if  it  ain't  to 
be  eaten,"  said  Mrs.  Fenway,  somewhat  tartly;  for  she  had 
not  yet  learned,  and  probably  never  would  learn,  how  to  take 
her  husband's  jokes. 

"  Then  it  strikes  me,"  he  said,  like  one  whose  darkly  strug- 
gling mind  had  just  been  visited  by  a  cheering  ray,  "that 
knives  will  be  useful." 

"  Knives  ?  Why,  how  absurd !  "  And  the  little  woman 
bridled,  tossed,  and  simpered.  "That  stupid  Nance!  she 
never  can  set  the  table  without  forgetting  something."  It 
was  well  just  then  for  stupid  Nance  that  her  small  black  ears 
were  not  within  sweep  of  the  vigorous  little  arm.     "  You  sit 


52  FA  KNELL  S    FOLLY. 

Still,  Marian  !  Walter  —  "  But  the  older  son's  long  face  did 
not  encourage  the  asking  of  favors,  and  she  turned  to  the 
younger,  "  Frankie  dear,  come,  you  step  and  get  the  knives ; 
they  're  right  at  the  right  hand,  on  the  buttery  shelf.  That 's  a 
good  boy." 

"  'T  ain't  boys'  work  to  set  the  table,"  muttered  Frank. 

But,  catching  his  father's  eye,  he  Avent  and  brought  the 
knives,  giving  his  own  to  Franco  to  carry,  and  recovering  it 
from  him  only  after  a  lively  scuffle. 

Mrs.  Fenway  had  an  amiable  habit  of  atoning  for  her  faults 
of  temper  by  bestowing  extraordinary  attentions  on  those  whom 
she  had  happened  to  offend.  "  When  I  see  my  little  woman 
over-particular  to  please,"  Miles  Fenway  used  to  say,  "then  I 
know  there  's  been  a  thunder-storm  ;  and  by  watching  at  the 
table  to  see  which  plate  the  nicest  tidbits  go  to,  I  can  always 
tell  where  the  lightning  has  struck.  Sometimes  they  come  to 
me ;  then  I  often  have  to  stop  and  think  when  and  where  I 
got  a  stroke  ;  but  the  tidbits  don't  lie,  and  I  'm  sure  to  remem- 
ber some  playful  little  circumstance  of  the  morning,  such  as 
her  brushing  the  coat  on  my  back  with  the  house-broom 
rather  harder  than  seemed  to  me  altogether  necessar)',  or 
combing  my  hair  and  whiskers  with  her  fingers,  when  I 
couldn't  for  the  life  of  me  see  that  they  needed  combing." 

This  evening  madam  appeared  especially  anxious  that 
Walter  should  be  well  served,  making  haste  to  secure  the 
nicest  morsels  for  the  morose  young  fellow's  plate.  It  thus 
happened  that  she  neglected  to  give  her  husband  his  cup  of 
tea.  He  v/aited  for  it  awhile,  then  remarked,  with  the  humor- 
ous drawing  of  the  risible  muscles  which  was  characteristic 
of  him  :  — 

"  I  should  like  to  know  what  I  've  done  that  I  can't  have 
something  to  drink." 

"  Dear  me  !  did  n't  I  give  you  —  I  certainly  —  how  absurd  !  " 

And  the  impulsive  creature,  to  atone  for  the  delay,  gave 


MRS.  Fenway's  tea.  53 

him  his  tea  with  extraordinar)'-  quickness,  and  ver}^  much  too 
strong  and  too  sweet. 

*'  You  're  altogether  too  good  now  !  "  He  stirred  and  sipped, 
and  passed  the  cup  back  for  a  dash  of  hot  water.  "  When- 
ever you  forget  my  cup,  wife,"  he  went  on,  with  a  twinkle  of 
his  clear  gray  eye,  "  I  think  of  poor  old  Gonumzkie,  the  first 
summer  he  boarded  with  us  and  worked  in  the  shop.  He 
came  to  me  one  day  and  said,  '  Mizter  Fenway,  I  am  much 
dissatisfy,  and  I  tink  I  shall  better  quit.'  *  How  so  ? '  I  said, 
*have  n't  I  kept  my  agreement  with  you  ?  Don't  we  treat  you 
well?'  'Yez,  Mizter  Fenway,  I  have  no  fault  to  make  vit 
you,  but  your  wife  sometime  treat  me  werj^,  wery  pad.'  '  I  'm 
very  sorry  for  that,  Gonumzkie  ! '  I  didn't  know  but  one  of 
those  little  mistakes  had  happened,  which,  according  to  my 
experience,  are  liable  to  occur  in  the  best-regulated  families, 
and  that  a  clothes-brush,  or  pot-lid,  or  something  of  the  sort, 
had  got  out  of  place,  and  crossed  the  room  when  he  hap- 
pened to  be  passing.  'What  has  she  done,'  I  said,  'that 
makes  you  want  to  quit  ? '  '  Veil,  Mizter  Fenway,  I  vill  tell  you ! ' 
says  he,  so  full  of  passion  that  he  almost  choked ;  '  sometime 
she  gimme  no  cuppy  tea,  no  cuppy  coffee,  for  breakfas',  for 
supper,  and  I  go  vidout  him.'  'I  declare,'  I  said,  'that's  too 
bad;  she  treats  me  som.etimes  just  so.  Often  I  don't  get 
my  tea  till  I  ask  for  it ;  I  've  had  a  notion  of  quitting  my. 
self ;  suppose  we  quit  together  ! '  The  old  man  went  back  to 
his  work,  and  after  that  always  asked  for  his  '  cuppy  coffee, 
cuppy  tea,'  when  he  wanted  them." 

Even  Walter  had  to  grin  at  his  father's  imitation  of  the  old 
Polish  exile's  comical  brogue  ;  and  the  family  were  all  now  in 
pretty  good  spirits.  The  young  man's  ill-humor  succumbed 
still  more  to  a  wonderfully  broad  piece  of  pie  his  mother 
slipped  on  his  plate,  whereat  she  smiled,  delighted;  and, 
thinking  it  a  good  time  to  tell  about  Mr.  Daskill,  she  made 
Marian  relate  her  adventure. 


54  FARNELLS    FOLLY. 

This  the  girl  did  circumstantially,  not  omitting  to  mention 
the  gentleman's  dream  of  a  flock  of  fanning-mills,  suggested 
by  the  trip-hammers. 

Miles  Fenway  had  the  shrewdness  to  see  which  way  the 
secret  matrimonial  hopes  of  his  wife,  and  perhaps,  also,  of 
Marian  herself,  were  pointing,  and  he  was  not  well  pleased. 
He  waited  until  the  boys  had  left  the  table,  then  said :  — 

"  I  've  no  doubt  this  Mr.  Daskill  is  a  respectable  man, 
and  I  don't  care  how  many  such  acquaintances  you  make, 
Marian,  provided  you  treat  them  properly." 

"  The  idea  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Fenway.  "  I  hope  you  don't  think 
her  capable  of  treating  any  one  improperly  ! " 

"  Perhaps  improperly  is  n't  just  the  word.  But  I  've  hinted 
to  her  before  that  I  don't  like  the  way  she  uses  some  of  her 
friends.  I  'm  afraid,  in  the  first  place,  that  she  gives  too 
much  time  and  thought  to  the  society  of  gentlemen  ;  and  that 
does  n't  help  her  along  with  her  studies,  I  am  sure.  But 
more  than  that,  I  suspect  she  is  n't  dealing  quite  fairly  with 
some  I  could  mention." 

Marian  colored  slightly,  and  cast  down  her  eyes.  Her 
mother  colored  violently,  and  fixed  her  eyes,  snapping  and 
flashing,  on  her  imperturbable  consort. 

"  Miles  Fenway,"  she  said,  with  a  toss  of  her  arrogant  little 
chin,  "  how  absurd  you  are  !     I  can't  imagine  who  you  mean." 

"•  Marian  can.  I  '11  say  William  Rayburn,  for  one.  It  is 
easy  to  see  how  he  feels  towards  her.  I  believe  her  treat- 
ment of  him  is  actually  wearing  upon  him,  and  doing  him  an 
injury." 

Miles  Fenway  bent  his  serious  and  tender  eyes  on  his 
child,  who  began  to  tremble  and  draw  quick  breaths  under  his 
reproof. 

"  The  idea  !  "  said  Mrs.  Fenway.  "  Because  a  young  man's 
stomach  is  out  of  order,  or  his  liver  is  torpid,  and  all  he  wants 
is  a  good  dose  of  salts  or  a  blue  pill !     How  absurd  1 "     And 


MRS.  Fenway's  tea.  55 

shoving  her  chair  back  from  the  table,  she  took  a  belligerent 
little  pinch  of  snuff. 

*'  It  will  take  something  besides  salts  or  a  blue  pill  to  reach 
his  case.  If  she  could  find  out  her  own  mind  with  regard  to  him, 
and  then  hold  to  it,  that  would  be  the  first  step  towards  end- 
ing his  trouble.  If  she  don't  mean  to  encourage  him,  let  her 
simply  say  so ;  and  though  it  will  be  a  hard  stroke,  it  will 
really  be  the  kindest  thing  she  can  do.  He  will  stop  worrying 
about  her  then,  and  in  a  little  while  he  will  turn  his  mind  to 
some  other  girl,  who  will  be  much  obliged,  to  her  for  having 
refused  him ;  for  I  believe,  if  he  could  get  over  this  foolish 
notion  after  Marian,  he  might  take  his  pick  among  all  the 
girls  in  town." 

Her  father's  earnest  words  called  up  Will's  image  in  all 
its  strength  to  Marian's  ardent  but  too  fickle  mind ;  and  the 
hint  of  his  choosing  elsewhere  gave  her  a  jealous  pang. 

"  He  says  himself  he  thinks  I  am  too  young  to  marry," 
she  said,  with  gathering  tears. 

"  That  shows  his  good  sense.  Don't  in  return  tantalize  him 
to  death  with  your  coquettish  ways,  —  coaxing  him  back  to 
you  after  you  have  slighted  him,  and  then,  when  he  comes, 
managing  to  have  two  or  three  other  beaux  in  his  way,  flirting 
with  them  half  the  evening,  as  I  've  seen  you  do,  till  he  goes 
off  angr}',  or  joins  in,  tr)-ing  to  laugh  and  talk  as  if  he  was 
happy,  but  all  the  while  wishing  himself  dead." 

"  It  shan't  be  so  any  more  !  "  said  Marian,  begining  to  cry. 

Her  father  calmly  extended  his  cup  for  more  tea,  and  that 
brought  madam  back  to  the  table,  after  her  pinch  of  snuff, 

"  I  should  like  to  know  what  you  are  driving  at.  Miles 
Fenway!"  And  she  tipped  the  teapot  so  sharply  that  the 
lid  flew  off  and  clattered  into  the  teacup  "You  would  n't 
have  her  thmk  of  marrying  a  fellow  like  Will  Rayburn,  would 
you  ?     The  idea  !  " 

"  Why,  no,  —  not  unless  she  wants  to." 


56  farnell's  folly. 

"  A  common  clerk  in  a  comitry  store  ! " 

"What  was  I  when  you  married  me,  Mrs.  Fenway?  I  was 
a  common  mechanic." 

"The  case  is  very  different.  Will  Raybum  is  not  a  reli- 
gious man  ;  that  is  my  great  objection  to  him." 

"  I  suspect,  my  dear,  if  he  had  fifty  thousand  dollars,  that 
objection  would  grow  beautifully  less." 

"  It 's  a  matter  of  principle  with  me,"  Mrs.  Fenway  asserted, 
very  much  as  if  it  had  been  a  matter  of  passion,  "  and  you 
know  it." 

"  You  did  n't  make  it  so  much  a  matter  of  principle  when 
you  married  me.  I  was  no  more  a  religious  man  than  he  is." 
Miles  Fenway's  mouth  puckered  ever  so  slightly  as  he  added : 
"There  's  nothing  like  a  sweet  and  amiable  Christian  wife  to 
bring  a  man  around  to  right  ways  of  thinking  and  living." 

"  The  case  is  entirely  different,  I  tell  you ;  and  I  do  think 
it  is  cruel  in  you  to  talk  to  the  poor  child  in  this  way  and 
make  her  cry.  There  's  your  tea;  do  take  it !  "  And  the  little 
Xantippe  looked  ver}''  much  as  if  she  would  like  to  throw  it. 

Socrates  quietly  took  the  cup,  gently  put  it  down,  and 
stirred  its  contents.  Marian  rose  abruptly  from  the  table, 
and  was  hastening  from  the  room. 

"  Mind  !  I  don't  counsel  you  to  engage  yourself  to  him,  my 
child.  Only  promise  me  one  thing, —  that  you  will  be  sincere 
with  him." 

"  I  will  be  sincere  with  him  !  father,  I  will !  " 

"  I  think  you  will,  my  child." 

His  big,  strong  hand,  light  in  its  touch  of  affection  as  her 
own,  caressed  her  beautiful  head.  He  kissed  her  cheek, 
while  a  tear  glistened  on  his  own ;  and  she  went  sobbing  from 
the  room. 


AN    OLD-FASHIONED    WINTER   EVENING.  57 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

AN    OLD-FASHIONED    WINTER    EVENING. 

"This  is  pretty  well ! ''  said  little  Mrs.  Fenway,  holding  the 
teapot  cover  in  her  hand,  with  an  expression  which  prepared 
her  husband  to  dodge  or  parry;  for  such  unconsidered  trifles 
had  been  known  to  traverse  the  table  in  a  highly  irregular 
manner,  from  her  side  to  his,  more  than  once  in  the  five-and- 
twenty  years  of  her  sober  wedded  life. 

"  I  am  glad  it  is  prett}'  well,"  responded  Miles  Fenway, 
composedly  drinking  his  tea,  but  keeping  a  shrewd  eye  on  the 
cover, 

"  After  all  I  've  done  for  that  child,  to  have  you  interfere 
and  force  her  into  a  low  marriage  with  that  Rayburn  fellow  ! " 

'•  Was  yours  a  low  marriage  with  that  Fenway  fellow  ?  I 
wish  nobody  in  the  house  had  any  more  notion  of  forcing  her 
inclination  than  I  have.  She  would  do  well  enough  without 
quite  so  much  parental  management.  By  George!"  said 
Miles,  still  good-naturedly  but  very  decidedly,  "  if  you  throw 
that  cover,  I'll  shut  you  up  in  the  closet!"  Mrs.  Fenway  put 
the  cover  down.  "  Will  is  coming  here  this  evening ;  that  is 
the  reason  why  I  spoke  to  her  just  now." 

"  This  evening  ?     How  do  you  know  ? " 

Marian,  in  the  conference  with  her  mother,  had  lacked  the 
courage  to  tell  her  that. 

"  I  met  him  on  the  street.  He  was  looking  brighter  and 
more  hopeful  than  I  have  seen  him  for  a  long  time.  She  has 
been  after  him  lately,  I  'm  certain  :  she  can't  let  him  go,  and 
he  's  a  fellow  of  too  much  pride  to  come  round  again  of  his 


58  farnell's  folly. 

own  accord.  I  remarked  that  it  was  some  time  since  we  had 
seen  him ;  and  he  answered,  with  a  laugh  and  a  blush,  that  I 
might  possibly  see  him  to-night." 

*'  Parental  management,  indeed ! "  said  the  wrathful  lady. 
"It  will  do  for  you  to  talk  of  parental  management,  after 
that!" 

"  Do  you  think  it  looked  as  though  I  wanted  to  bring  him 
and  Marian  together?  I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing.  All 
I  demand  is,  that  he  shall  have  fair  play."  And  without  stop- 
ping to  argue  the  question  further,  Miles  retired  to  the  sitting- 
room  fire  and  his  weekly  newspaper. 

"  Well ! "  said  the  little  lady,  bouncing  up.  "  Coming  to-night, 
is  he  ?  I  declare,  there  shall  be  no  fire  in  the  parlor,  nor  in 
the  kitchen  either.  Nance, "  to  the  black  girl  bringing  in 
her  pail  of  milk,  "  let  the  fire  go  out  in  the  stove." 

"  You  culTed  me  last  night  '  cause  I  let  it  go  out,"  replied 
Nance,  shyly  turning  up  the  whites  of  her  eyes. 
"And  I'll  cuff  you  to-night,  if  you  don't." 
"  You  're  in  a  hard  place,  Nance,"  said  Mr.  Fenway,  coming 
in  on  a  hunt  for  his  spectacles.  "  Wife,  you  remind  me  of 
the  old  toper,  going  home  late  one  night  in  his  usual  condi- 
tion, muttering  to  himself,  *  I  wonder  if  my  wife  has  kept  sup- 
per waiting!  I'll  lick  her  if  she  has,  and  I'll  lick  her  if  she 
has  n't.'  Look  out!"  seeing  the  broom  coming,  with  an  ex- 
cited woman  behind  it.     "  Remember  the  closet ! " 

Perceiving  that  her  husband  was  not  in  a  mood  to  be  trifled 
with,  Mrs.  Fenway  returned  the  broom  to  its  place,  and  took 
her  little  pinch  of  snuff. 

"  He  may  talk  !  But  there  shall  be  no  fire  in  any  room  but 
the  sitting-room,  and  I  '11  sit  up  all  night  but  what  I  '11  prevent 
that  fellow  from  having  a  word  with  her  alone." 

With  this  resolution,  Mrs.  Fenway  hurried  up  stairs  to  com- 
fort and  counsel  her  child.  She  found  her  indulging  in  that 
luxury  of  the  afflicted  female  heart,  "  a  good  cry."     But  Mar- 


AN    OLD-FASHIONED    WINTER   EVENING.  59 

ian  dried  her  eyes,  and,  to  escape  her  mother's  urgent  advice 
and  entreaties,  declared  that  she  must  practise  an  hour  before 
writing  her  French  exercises  ;  and  so  went  down  to  the  piano. 

Nervous  and  apprehensive,  Mrs.  Fenway  followed,  seating 
herself  at  her  sewing,  and  awaited  Will's  arrival,  like  a  deter- 
mined little  general  prepared  for  an  arduous  campaign. 

Evening  had  set  in.  The  lamps  were  lighted,  and  the  gen- 
erous wood  fire  shed  a  ruddy  glow  throughout  the  room.  Mar- 
ian's white  fingers  danced  over  the  ivor}^  keys.  Mrs.  Fenway's 
chubby  red  fingers  flew  with  the  busy  needle  and  thread,  as 
they  flew  only  on  occasions  of  domestic  excitement.  On  the 
other  side  of  the  table  sat  Miles  Fenway,  with  his  newspaper 
before  him,  and  his  feet  stretched  out  towards  the  fire,  show- 
ing a  formidable  length  of  leg.  Frank  had  gone  out  with 
Franco;  but  Walter  was  there,  bent  over  his  slate,  behind  his 
father.  The  firebrands  crackled  and  snapped,  the  flames  flut- 
tered and  lisped ;  and  between  the  strains  of  Marian's  music 
were  heard  the  travelling  slate-pencil,  and  the  purring  of  the 
cat  on  the  rug. 

Then  black  Nance,  having  dutifully  washed  the  dishes  and 
let  the  kitchen  fire  go  out,  clattered  into  the  room  in  her  thick 
shoes,  that  had  been  Walter's,  took  a  chair  in  the  corner, 
perched  Anth  her  feet  upon  the  top  round  and  her  knees  near 
her  chin,  knitting-work  in  lap,  and  knit,  and  rolled  her  eyes, 
and  sunned  her  sensuous,  happy,  tropical  nature  in  the  glow 
of  the  great  chimney. 

Marian  started  and  Mrs.  Fenway  looked  up,  thinking  Will 
was  at  the  door.  But  it  was  nobody  but  Lottie,  the  elder 
daughter,  now  Mrs.  Lorkins  (having  thrown  herself  away  on  a 
pedler  of  that  name),  coming  in  with  a  shawl  over  her  head, 
from  beneath  which  beamed  a  countenance  full  of  homely 
cheerfulness  and  goodness. 

"  Just  in  time,  Lottie  ! "  cried  her  mother.  "  I  was  wishing 
you  would  come  in." 


6o  farnell's  folly. 

She  was,  in  fact,  wishing  for  anybody  to  come  in,  whose 
presence  might  help  to  embarrass  Will  Rayburn's  wooing. 

"  I  thought  I  77iust  run  in  for  a  few  minutes,"  said  Lottie, 
slipping  off  her  shawl.  "  Pa,  have  you  heard  from  Geordie  ?  " 
(Geordie  was  the  pedler.)     "I  expected  him  to-night." 

"  Well  ! "  said  her  father,  slipping  the  spectacles  up  on  his 
forehead  and  laying  down  the  newspaper,  "  Geordie  is  n't  the 
fellow  to  be  far  away  on  runners  when  there 's  a  chance  of 
losing  the  sleighing. " 

"  Dear  me  !  "  said  Lottie,  "  I  wish  I  was  n't  so  foolish ;  but 
whenever  he  's  a  day  longer  getting  home  than  I  think  he 
ought  to  be,  all  the  stories  I  ever  heard  or  read,  of  pedlers 
being  waylaid  and  murdered  for  their  money,  come  into  my 
mind,  and  make  me  as  nervous  as  a  witch.  " 

"  Oh !  Geordie  likes  to  have  a  good  time  with  some  of  his 
old  girls,"  said  Mrs.  Fenway.  "These  pedlers  are  great  fel- 
lows for  the  girls. " 

"  I  believe,  ma,"  said  Lottie,  "  I  never  came  in  here  yet 
when  I  didn't  hear  something  interesting  about  pedlers. 
I  've  often  wondered  what  you  would  think  of,  to  say  next. 
Geordie's  flirting  with  the  girls  is  the  last  thing  !  " 

"  Oh  !  is  it  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Fenway  sarcastically.  "  You  're  so 
bumptious  about  it,  I  've'  a  good  mind  to  tell  you  —  I  will ! 
Your  pa  was  n't  going  to  mention  that  we  've  heard  from  your 
pedler,  but  we  have,  and  very  interesting  news  it  is  too. 
Bob  Syles  came  home  to-day,  and  told  all  round  that  he  saw 
Geordie  Lorkins  put  up  at  a  tavern  last  night,  bringing  along 
a  woman  he  had  picked  up  somewhere." 

"  It 's  a  slander  !  "  said  Lottie  indignantly. 

"  I  've  no  doubt  but  it  is,"  said  her  father,  "  and  for  that 
reason  I  was  n't  going  to  say  anything  about  it." 

"  Well,  I  hope  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Fenway.  "  Bob  Syles's 
word  ain't  good  for  much,  I  know.  What  work  is  that 
you  've  brought  t     Another  baby  frock !     I  hope  your  baby 


AN    OLD-FASHIONED    WINTER    EVENING.  6l 

has  frocks  enough !  But  I  suppose  pedlers'  babies  are 
entitled  to  more  frocks  than  other  folks's." 

"  My  pedler's  baby  is  entitled  to  all  the  frocks  she  needs, 
and  that  I  can  afford  to  make  for  her  without  other  people's 
help." 

Lottie,  having  fired  this  little  shot,  quietly  unrolled  her 
work  before  the  fire.     Nobody  spoke.     She  looked  at  Walter. 

"  \\'hat  is  the  matter  with  you  all  to-night  ?  " 

Mrs.   Fenway  made   a  sign  of  silence,   and  whispered,  — 

"  He's  having  one  of  his  grouty  spells,  that 's  all." 

But  that  hardly  accounted  for  the  domestic  cloud  which 
Lottie  had  felt  immediately  on  entering  the  house. 

It  lifted  for  a  moment ;  then  at  a  sound  from  without,  set- 
tled down  again.  Marian  turned  on  the  piano-stool,  and 
began  to  finger  the  keys  carelessly.  Mrs.  Fenway's  relaxed 
lips  tightened  once  more,  as  if  in  expectation  of  a  struggle. 
Lottie  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  then  at  her  father,  who 
smiled. 

Somebody  was  rasping  the  snow  from  a  stout  pair  of  boot- 
soles  on  the  ringing  iron  door-scraper.  Then  somebody 
lifted  the  latch  without  knocking,  and  came  in. 

"  Nance,"  said  Mrs.  Fenway  crankly,  "  open  the  entry  door, 
so  they  can  see." 

Down  went  the  black  girl's  feet,  and  up  jumped  she  in  her 
clattering  shoes,  running  with  her  knitting-work,  and  followed 
by  a  streaming  thread  of  yarn  and  a  rolling  ball,  which  was 
in  turn  followed  by  the  cat,  cuffing  and  boxing  it  in  sport, 
much  as  Mrs.  Fenway  had  often,  at  odd  spells,  cuffed  and 
boxed  in  earnest  the  larger  and  darker  ball  of  the  girl's  woolly 
head. 

Mrs.  Fenway  looked  up  superciliously,  and  Marian  turned 
on  the  piano-stool  with  a  smile,  prepared  for  the  expected 
suitor,  and  saw  —  not  him,  but  an  oldish  little  man,  with  small, 
beady  black  eyes  that  winked  pleasantly  at  the  firelight,  and 


•62  farnell's  folly. 

a  tall,  sour-faced  female,  distinguished  for  her  singular  flat- 
ness and  gauntness  of  figure,  and  chronic  scowl. 

"  Good  evenin',  folks  !  "  said  the  little  man,  all  smiles,  rub- 
bing his  husky  hands. 

"  I  declare,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Fenway,  with  a  joyful  change 
of  countenance,  "how  glad  I  am  to  see  you!  Lay  your 
things  right  off,  Mrs.  Wetherspun.  You  've  come  for  a  long 
evening,  I  hope  !  " 

For  the  good  woman  said  to  herself  :  "  That  Rayburn  fellow 
won't  have  much  of  a  chance  with  them  around ;  and  they 
beat  all  the  human  creatures  to  stay,  when  they  once  get  to 
toasting  their  shins  by  the  fire." 

"  I  don't  know.  Shall  we,  daddy  ? "  said  Mrs.  Wetherspun 
doubtfully. 

"  I  'm  gunter  slip  off  my  gre't-cut,  anyway,  while  we  do 
stop,"  said  Mr.  Wetherspun.  "  Me  'n'  my  wife  thought 
we  'd  jest  step  in,  and  see  how  ye  all  be ;  she  wanted  to 
git  out." 

"I  guess  'twas  quite  as  much  you  as  me,"  said  Mrs. 
Wetherspun,  untying  her  bonnet-strings.  "  You  spoke  on  't 
fust." 

"  Wull,  it 's  kin'  o'  lonesome  to  hum,  now  the  girls  have 
got  married  off.  I  git  to  sleep  in  the  corner,  'thout  some- 
body comes  in  to  roust  me  up.  I  tol'  my  wife,  though,  she 
needn't  bring  her  knittin,'  for  we  shouldn't  stop.  But  I 
believe  she  did." 

"  I  should  n't  think  o'  goin'  anywheres  with  him,  'ithout 
takin'  some  kind  o'  work  along,"  rejoined  the  scowling  female, 
appearing  gaunter  and  flatter  than  ever  after  the  removal  of 
her  shawl.  "  He  's  sich  a  master  hand  to  hang  on,  when  he 
once  gits  to  talkin' !  " 

"  I  '11  make  him  hang  on  to-night !  "  thought  Mrs.  Fenway, 
taking  the  lady's  things. 

The  little  man  stepped  to  lay  his  overcoat  across  a  chair, 


AN    OLD-FASHIONED    WINTER    EVENING.  63 

and  nearly  stumbled  over  black  Nance,  who  was  groping 
mysteriously  on  the  floor. 

"  It'll  do  fer  women-folks  to  sputter  about  men  hangin'  on, 
won't  it,  Fenway  ?  Me  'n'  my  wife  —  Hurt  ye,  Nance  ^  —  never 
set  out  to  see  which  could  talk  t'other  down,  on  a  long 
stretch  ;  but  I  've  gen'ly  found,  away  f'm  hum,  't  her  tongue 
can  run  about  as  fast  an'  about  as  long  as  anybody's,  'thout 
wdndin'  up  !  "  The  little  black  eyes  sparkled  with  anticipa- 
tion of  the  winter  evening's  entertainment.  "  Hey,  what 's 
this .'' "  As  he  was  about  to  take  a  chair  by  the  fire,  he 
stopped,  turned  round,  looked  at  his  legs,  and  began  to  lift 
them  warily.  "  I  'm  beat  if  I  ain't  gittin'  wound  up  in  suth- 
in  ' !     Has  your  ball  got  out  o'  yer  pocket,  mammy  ?  " 

"  I  declare,  that's  your  yarn,  Nance ! "  said  Mrs.  Fenway. 
"  We  're  all  wound  up  in  't.  " 

"  I  was  tr}'in'  to  unwind  ye,"  said  Nance. 

"  I  thought  it  curi's,"  said  Mr.  Wetherspun.  "  She  was 
dartin'  back  an'  forth  'twixt  my  legs,  like  a  shuttle." 

"  I  knowed  my  ball  was  all  right,"  said  Mrs.  Wetherspun, 
having  explored  her  pocket. 

"  Wull,  ye  don't  alluz  know,"  remarked  her  husband,  disen- 
tangling himself,  and  sitting  down.  "  Me  'n'  my  wife  got 
started  one  night  to  go  over  the  bridge,  an'  call  on  the  minis- 
ter's folks  —  " 

"  Come  now,  daddy,"  the  lady  interrupted  him,  unfolding 
her  knitting-work,  "  don't  tell  that  silly  story  agin  !  I  'm  sick 
an'  tired  o'  hearin'  on  't !  Go  right  on  with  your  practice, 
Marian ;  it  won't  trouble  us  the  leastest  mite.  We  can  visit 
jest  the  same. " 

"  If  it 's  silly,  't  ain't  my  fault,"  Mr.  Wetherspun  resumed. 
"  She  took  her  knittin'  along  as  usual ;  I  believe  she  'd  take 
that  if  she  was  goin'  to  the  m^oon  !  Wull,  arter  we  got  to 
the  minister's,  an'  was  jest  takin'  off  our  things,  —  for  they 
axed  us  to,  an'  my  wife  had  agreed  we  should  stay  if  they 


64  farnell's  folly. 

urged  it,  —  wull,  jest  then  I  kin'  o'  noticed  there  was  purty 
consider'ble  loose  yarn  layln'  around,  an'  nobody  seemed 
to  be  able  to  'count  for  't ;  minister's  wife  said  she  did  n't 
have  no  knittin' ;  an'  my  wife,  she  had  n't  took  hern  out ; 
till  bimeby  I  ketched  hold  of  a  piece  o'  yarn  hangin'  to  her 
gownd,  an'  follered  it  right  up  to  her  pocket.  Wull,  she  put  in 
her  hand,  an'  there  was  the  knittin'-work,  only  the  ball  was 
gone  ;  she  'd  lost  it  out  a-gittin'  at  her  pocket-hankercher  jest 
as  we  left  hum,  an'  I  found  it,  dark  as  'twas,  by  follerin'  the 
yarn  back  from  the  minister's,  over  the  bridge,  to  within 
about  six  rods  of  our  gate,  where  the  ball  had  unwound  to  a 
lump  no  bigger  'n  a  wa'nut,  with  a  goose-quill  through  it.  I 
tol'  the  folks,  when  I  got  back,  't  my  wife  'd  been  reelin' 
street-yarn  that  night,  if  never  afore  !  " 

Although  everybody  present  had  heard  this  neat  domestic 
anecdote  on  several  previous  occasions,  everybody  laughed 
except  Mrs.  Wetherspun,  who  scowled  more  sourly  than 
ever. 

The  company  were  now  comfortably  seated.  Marian  had 
resumed  her  practice.  The  men  were  talking  about  the 
weather,  and  the  women's  tongues  and  fingers  were  begin- 
ning to  fly  pretty  fast,  when  once  more  there  came  a  step 
to  the  door,  and  the  noise  of  a  foot  knocking  off  ice-balls  on 
the  scraper. 

"  Go  to  the  door,  Nance,"  said  Mrs.  Fenway. 

But  before  the  girl  could  get  her  feet  down  from  their 
perch,  and  her  yarn  and  needles  out  of  her  lap,  the  visitor 
walked  in. 

Again  it  was  not  Will,  but  Will's  uncle,  miserly  old  Mr. 
Carolus.  Uncle  and  nephew  were  not  on  good  terms ;  and 
lively  little  Mrs.  Fenway  welcomed  him  accordingly. 

The  visitor  hesitated,  however,  standing  in  the  entry  door- 
way,—  a  grotesque  figure,  with  sharp  eyes,  and  a  wizened  old 
face  peering  out  from  the  huge  fur  collar  of  a  long,  old-fash- 


AN    OLD-FASHIONED    WINTER   EVENING.  65 

ioned  cloak,  that  reached  to  his  heels,  and  made  him  look 
like  a  hunchback  in  a  giant's  mantle.  With  one  hand  thrust 
out  from  under  the  garment,  leaning  on  his  cane,  and  with 
his  head  pushed  curiously  forward,  under  a  heavy  fur  cap, 
he  glanced  keenly  from  right  to  left,  and  said,  in  a  harsh, 
cracked  voice,  — 

"  I  see  you  have  friends  with  you.  My  room  will  be  better 
than  my  company.     I  '11  call  again." 

"  No,  no,  Mr.  Carolus ! "  said  Miles,  gathering  up  his  long 
legs,  and  advancing  to  take  the  cap  and  cloak. 

"The  more  the  merrier!  "  cried  gay  Mrs.  Fenway. 

"Ye  need  n't  be  afraid  of  us,  Mr.  Carolus,"  said  Mr.  Weth- 
erspun,  getting  into  the  corner  by  the  hearth;  while  the 
scowling  Mrs.  Wetherspun  whispered  in  Lottie's  ear : 

"  The  old  miser  goes  out  to  pass  his  evenin's  fer  no  other 
reason  under  the  canopy  but  jest  to  save  firewood  to  hum." 

"Besides,"  said  Mr.  Fenway,  "you'll  hardly  ever  find  us 
without  company  on  a  winter's  evening.  I  read  my  papers, 
and  then  I  like  to  have  neighbors  drop  in  and  have  a 
chat." 

So  saying,  he  lifted  hat  and  cloak,  somewhat  after  the 
manner  of  a  necromancer  lifting  his  magic  cloth,  and  discov- 
ered a  short,  bald,  nervous,  skinny  and  wrinkled  octogena- 
rian, not  so  tall  as  little  Wetherspun  by  a  head,  but  lively  as 
a  cricket. 

"  You  keep  good  fires,  Neighbor  Fenway !  I  like  to  see 
good  fires  ! "  he  croaked,  nodding  and  shaking.  And,  spring- 
ing his  legs  as  if  they  had  been  worked  by  wires,  he  ad- 
vanced to  the  space  that  had  been  opened  for  him  before  the 
hearth. 

"  He  likes  good  fires  anywheres  but  to  hum,"  whispered 
Mrs.  Wetherspun,  appearing  to  regard  the  new-comer  as  an 
intruder.  "  Go  into  his  house  in  the  coldest  weather,  and 
you'll  find  him  shiverin'  over  a  fire  of  two  sticks." 

5 


66  farnell's  folly. 

"Walter,"  said  Mr.  Fenway,  "go  to  the  cellar,  and  bring  up 
a  pitcher  of  cider  and  a  dish  of  apples.  You  can  hold  the 
lamp  for  him,  Nance.  " 

"Ha!  I  don't  object  to  a  class  of  cider!"  And  old  Mr. 
Carolus  nodded  and  smacked.  "  Ha !  I  don't  object  to  an 
apple  neither,  only  give  me  a  knife  to  scrape  it.  I  'm  seven- 
ty-nine year  old,  in  my  eightieth  year.  Neighbor  Fenway,  and 
I  can  drink  my  glass  of  cider  and  eat  an  apple  yet." 

"Ye  never  see  neither  in  his  house,"  whispered  the 
scowling  Mrs.  Wetherspun. 

The  well-filled  fruit-dish  and  pitcher  were  brought,  and 
placed  on  the  hearth  to  warm,  at  sight  of  which  old  Carolus 
nodded  and  cackled,  and  sociable  little  Wetherspun's  heart 
overflowed,  in  anticipation  of  the  promised  cheer. 

Still  Will  Rayburn  did  not  come,  and  Marian  appeared  ab- 
stracted and  anxious.  She  was  listening  intently,  while  she 
seemed  to  be  playing ;  and  when  at  last  another  step  —  this 
time  a  quick,  manly  step  —  came  to  the  door,  she  no  longer 
waited  at  the  piano,  but  rose  with  a  radiant  look,  which  Mrs. 
Fenway  bit  her  lip  to  see,  motioned  Nance  back  to  her  chair, 
and  went  herself  to  answer  the  visitor's  knock. 

The  entry  was  usually  lighted  in  the  evening  through  the 
open  door  of  the  sitting-room,  which  Marian  now  closed  after 
her,  determined  that  no  eyes  should  witness  the  meeting  with 
her  lover.  She  advanced  through  the  dim  entry,  her  heart 
all  a-flutter  with  joy  and  sweet  compassion,  lifted  the  outer 
latch,  opened  the  door,  put  out  her  hand,  and  put  up  her  pre- 
cious mouth,  but  recoiled  in  time  to  avoid  a  kiss  from  strange 
and  bearded  lips. 

Wide-awake  Mrs.  Fenway,  perceiving  her  daughter's  little 
artifice,  flew  to  the  sitting-room  door,  flung  it  open,  saying, 
"Don't  keep  people  in  the  dark!"  and,  letting  a  flood  of 
light  into  the  entry,  beheld  Marian  starting  back,  with  a 
faint  scream,  from  the  advance  of  a  stranger. 


AN    OLD-FASHIONED    WINTER    EVENING.  6/ 

Alas,  it  was  a  day  of  fatal  errors  with  the  poor  child !  To 
have  mistaken  another  person's  dog  for  their  own  that  after- 
noon was  nothing  to  this  terrible  blunder. 

Innocent,  happy  Marian,  hastening  to  meet  Will,  and  give 
him  the  sacred  kiss  of  affection  and  acceptance,  had  almost 
had  it  taken  from  her  lips  by  the  too  ready,  too  ardent  Mr. 
Adolphus  Daskill. 


68  faknell's  folly. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

HOW    MR.    DASKILL    WAS    ENTERTAINED. 

Mrs.  Fenway  was  completely  flustered  by  the  appearance 
of  so  distinguished  a  stranger,  and  her  uncertain  and  con- 
fused knowledge  of  the  impropriety  into  which  Marian  had 
so  nearly  betrayed  herself. 

"  I  beg  a  thousand  pardons ! "  said  Mr.  Daskill,  with  his 
hat  high  and  his  head  low.  "  I  should  have  known  that  such 
a  greeting  was  not  intended  for  me.  But  really,  madam,  your 
daughter, — for  I  presume  you  are  her  mother, —  " 

"  I  am,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Fenway  excitedly. 

"  Mr.  Daskill,  mother,"  Marian  then  found  breath  to  say. 

Mrs.  Fenway  courtesied,  and  Mr.  Adolphus  bowed  again, 
with  captivating  urbanity. 

"  Your  daughter,  I  was  about  to  remark,  reminds  me  of  a 
sister  I  lost  two  years  ago  ;  they  are  wonderfully  alike.  And 
she  was  no  doubt  expecting  a  brother,  or  some  dear  friend." 

Marian  was  blushing  with  confusion,  when  her  mother 
came,  with  a  white  lie,  to  her  relief. 

"Yes,  she  was  looking  for  a  brother,  sir.  A  very  dear 
friend,  sir.  For  when  I  say  brother,  I  mean  brother-in- 
law, —  my  son-in-law, — whom  we  are  expecting  this  ver}' 
night.     She  mistook  you  for  him  ;  I  beg  you  '11  excuse  her." 

"  It  is  too  great  a  happiness  to  be  mistaken  for  your  son-in- 
law,  madam,"  replied  the  audacious  Mr.  Daskill.  "I  fear 
my  visit  is  ill-timed ;  but  I  promised  Miss  Fenway  that,  with 
her  permission,  I  would  give  myself  the  pleasure  of  calling 
on  her  before  I  left  town ;  and  as  I  have  decided  to  go  in  the 
morning,  only  this  opportunity  remained  for  me." 


HOW    MR.    DASKILL   WAS    ENTERTAINED.  69 

"Walk  in,  sir,"  then  said  Mrs,  Fenwa3%  showing  the  way  to 
the  sitting-room,  but  starting  back  at  sight  of  the  company 
she  had  for  a  moment  forgotten. 

There  was  coarse  Mrs.  Wetherspun,  scowling  over  her 
knitting,  simple  Mr.  Wetherspun,  tipped  back  against  the 
chimney,  and  grotesque  old  Mr.  Carolus,  bent  almost  double, 
having  slipped  down  in  his  chair  until  he  sat  on  his  back- 
bone, with  one  little  lean  leg  crossed  over  the  other  little 
lean  leg,  and  with  his  bald  head  pushed  fonvard,  glistening 
in  the  firelight, 

"  Dear  me  ! "  said  the  vain  little  woman,  ashamed  to  intro- 
duce the  high-bred  Adolphus  to  such  neighbors,  "why  wasn't 
there  afire  in  the  parlor,  Marian?  We  nearly  always  have 
a  fire  in  the — but  to-night,  for  a  wonder — how  did  it  hap- 
pen,?" 

There  was  no  other  way,  however,  but  to  show  the  visitor 
in,  which  she  did  in  the  hope  that  the  others  would  soon  take 
a  hint  and  depart.  She  did  not  intend  introducing  him  to 
anybody  but  Mr.  Fenway  and  Lottie  ;  but  she  had  barely  sim- 
pered forth  a  repetition  of  her  little  fiction,  "  To  think,  Lot- 
tie, Marian  mistook  him  for  your  husband  !  The  idea !  " 
when  Mr.  Fenway,  having  shaken  him  cordially  by  the  hand, 
introduced  him  to  the  rest. 

"  Go  to  bed  !  "  muttered  Mrs.  Fenway,  venting  her  wrath 
on  Nance,  whose  convenient  wool  got  a  sharp  wrench  behind 
Mr.  Daskill's  back.  "  Silting  here  with  your  knees  higher 
than  your  head  !  " 

"  Hain't  nowheres  else  to  set,"  muttered  Nance  in  reply. 
"  You  made  me  let  the  fire  go  out  in  the  —  " 

"  Out  of  my  sight  with  you  I  "  And  one  of  the  girl's  un- 
lucky ears  received  such  a  t\veak  as  wrung  from  her  a  half- 
suppressed  yell.  ("  It  must  appear  so  ungenteel,"  thought 
Mrs,  Fenway,  "for  a  black  servant-girl  to  be  seen  sitting 
with  the  family,") 


70  farnell's  folly. 

"  Shan't  we  be  goin',  mammy  ? "  feebly  suggested  Mr. 
Wetherspun,  to  Mrs.  Fenway's  inexpressible  relief. 

Mrs.  Wetherspun  scowled  at  the  apples  and  cider,  and 
scowled  at  her  husband  and  the  newly  arrived  guest ;  then 
said  sourly,  — 

"  1  s'pose  luebbe  we  better." 

"  No,  no  !  sit  still,  "  said  Mr.  Fenway.  (So  absurd  !  What 
could  he  be  thinking  of  ?  as  Mrs.  Fenway  aptly  remarked  in 
the  course  of  a  subsequent  curtain  lecture.) 

"I  '11  jest  knit  this  needle  out,"  said  Mrs.  Wetherspun. 

"  That  '11  jest  about  give  me  time  to  drink  a  glass  of  cider," 
observed  her  husband. 

Mr.  Daskill  was  delighted  to  see  everybody,  especially  the 
proprietor  of  the  famous  fork-factory. 

"  Your  forks  have  a  great  name  in  Buffalo,  Mr.  Fenway.  I 
trust  we  shall  be  better  acquainted.  Our  firm  —  Goldfinch 
and  Company — has  now  a  large  interest  in  your  town,  and 
I  shall  probably  give  it  my  personal  attention.  The  place 
has  a  great  attraction  for  me."  And  he  cast  a  gracious 
glance  at  the  blushing  Marian. 

Mrs.  Fenway  heard  and  saw,  and  in  the  jo}'  which  thrilled 
her  fond  maternal  heart,  took  a  tranquillizing  pinch  of  snuff. 

Her  pleasure  was  immediately  marred  by  old  Mr.  Carolus, 
who  squeaked  out  emphatically,  with  nods  and  shakes  of  his 
ridiculous,  shiny,  bald  head  :  — 

"  I  would  n't  give  a  tinker's  dam  for  the  business,  without 
I  could  sell  whiskey.  I  used  to  keep  store  on  that  very 
spot,  'fore  Ward  Farnell's  day.  I  came  when  the  country 
was  a  wilderness ;  started  the  first  store  in  the  place ;  sold 
everything,  from  a  calico  dress  to  a  clothespin ,  and  I  ain't 
ashamed  to  say  the  chief  source  of  my  profits  was  in  the 
liquor  traffic,  —  the  liquor  traffic,  sir  !  I  sold  to  Indians,  I  sold 
to  squaws,  and  I  sold  to  white  men.  I  sold  by  the  glass,  and 
I  sold  by  the  bottle,  and  I  sold  by  the  kag.     I  made  a  little  by 


now    MR.    DASKILL    WAS    ENTERTAINED.  7I 

the  kag,  and  I  made  a  good  deal  by  the  bottle,  and  I  made  a 
sight  by  the  glass.  I  made  five  hundred  per  cent,  if  I  made  a 
penny." 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Fenway,  "I  know  many  a  man,  jVIr.  Caro- 
lus,  who  passed  his  farm  and  stock  over  your  counter,  and 
went  off  with  nothing  to  show  for  'em  but  rags  and  a  red 
nose." 

"  That  they  did,  that  they  did  !  'T  was  their  fault,  not 
mine.  They  took  my  liquor,  and  I  took  their  farms.  First, 
a  small  account  at  the  store,  then  a  long  account,  then  a  little 
mortgage,  then  a  big  mortgage,  then  foreclosure  ;  and  the 
house  and  land  had  passed  out  of  a  fool's  hands  into  a  wise 
man's.  I  kept  the  farms ;  and  whether  they  kept  the  red 
noses,  I  don't  care  a  tinker's  dam,  he,  he  1  It 's  none  of  my 
business,  none  of  my  business,  he,  he  !  " 

Poor  Mrs.  Fenway,  wondering  what  Mr,  Adolphus  Daskill 
would  think  of  them  for  having  such  guests  in  their  house,  at- 
tempted to  interpose  ;  but  old  Carolus,  catching  up  his  cane, 
struck  it  rudely  on  the  hearth,  and  squeaked  out :  — 

"  Sell  it  by  the  kag,  Mr.  What's-yer-name  !  sell  it  by  the 
bottle,  Mr.  What's-yer-name  !  and,  above  all,"  —  he  raised  his 
cracked  voice  to  a  horribly  dissonant  pitch,  and  struck 
again,  —  "  sell  it  by  the  glass  !  Never  mind  what  some  folks 
say,  as  long  as  other  folks  buy.  That 's  my  advice  to  you,  if 
you  carry  on  the  business.  You  '11  get  cusses,  but  you  '11  get 
coppers.     Cusses  don't  hurt ;  coppers  count." 

"What  made  you  ever  stop  selling,  Mr.  Carolus?"  Mr. 
Wetherspun  inquired. 

"  Because  I  was  a  fool.  One  grocer)'  after  another  opened 
fire ;  here  sprung  up  a  grogshop,  and  there  a  grogshop,  like 
toadstools  in  a  night ;  and  a  tavern  on  the  corner.  Then 
some  said  they  would  n't  come  mto  my  store  and  trade  at  all, 
if  I  sold  rum ,  and  in  a  moment  of  weakness,  in  a  moment  of 
weakness,  Mr.  What's-yer-name,  I  succumbed,  and  quit  the 


72  FARNELL  S   FOLLY. 

traffic.  The  business  wan't  worth  a  tinker's  granny  after 
that,  and  I  was  might)'  glad  to  sell  out." 

"  We  all  thought  Mr.  Farnell  was  doin'  perty  well  Avith  the 
business  for  a  while,"  said  little  Wetherspun. 

"You  thought  so,  he,  he  !  "  cackled  old  Carolus.  "  I  could 
have  told  ye,  I  could  have  told  ye  !  But  ye  found  out  your 
mistake." 

"  We  found  out  our  mistake  to  our  sorrow !  "  said  Mrs. 
Wetherspun.  "  Think  of  a  man  like  Ward  Farnell  cuttin' 
sich  a  big  swath,  and  then  failin'  up,  and  payin'  poor  folks 
he  'd  borrered  money  from  only  'leven  cents  on  a  dollar ! 
For  that 's  all  we  're  likely  to  git,  though  Julia  says  she  means 
to  pay  some  on  us.  If  she  means  to,  why  don't  she  ?  She  's 
paid  the  Widder  Rayburn  and  the  Wintergreen  gals  suthin' ; 
but  that  don't  do  us  no  good.     The  hussy  !  " 

Marian  hastened  to  the  defence  of  her  friend. 

"  I  suppose  Julia  thought  they  needed  what  she  could 
spare  now  more  than  you  do,  Mrs.  Wetherspun.  I  know 
she  had  to  sell  her  jewels,  to  be  able  to  pay  them  anything. 
Not  many  girls  would  have  done  that !  Since  the  failure,  she 
has  acted  in  every  way,  everybody  says,  with  the  greatest 
courage  and  unselfishness;  and  I  can't  bear  to  hear  her 
spoken  ill  of." 

"  That 's  right !  that 's  right !  "  said  Mr.  Daskill  quietly,  but 
with  beaming  admiration  in  his  eyes. 

Mrs.  Fenway  was  overjoyed  ;  but  now  little  Wetherspun, 
wishing  to  bring  the  conversation  back  to  the  subject  which 
interested  him  more,  struck  in  from  his  corner  :  — 

"  You  sold  out  with  a  perty  good  pocketful,  did  n't  ye,  Mr. 
Carolus  ? " 

"  I  did,  I  did !  My  aim  was  to  make  money,  and  I  made 
money." 

"That's  been  the  aim  of  your  life,  hain't  it?"  said  Mrs. 
Wetherspun  sourly. 


HOW    MR.    DASKILL   WAS    ENTERTAINED,  73 

"It's  the  aim  of  every  man's  life,"  said  Mr.  Carolus. 
"  But  there  's  a  difference.  Only  one  man  in  ten  thousan'  is 
honest  enough  to  own  it.  T'other  nine  thousan'  nine  hun- 
dred and  ninet}'-nine  put  their  thumbs  together,  turn  up  their 
eyes,  and  look  pious,  and  say  :  '  Oh,  no !  we  don't  live  to 
make  money !  '    Oh,  no  !  they  live  for  the  good  of  society,  or 

some  other  d d  humbug;  to  save  their  souls,  when  they  've 

no  souls  to  save  ;  and  all  the  while,  what  do  they  do  ?  Just 
what  I  do ;  they  get  all  the  money  they  can.  I  tell  ye  what, 
Mr.  What's-yer-name,  money  rules  the  world.  Mr.  What's- 
yer-name,  you  know  that  as  well  as  I  do.  The  world  knows 
it,  and  acts  accordingly.  What  a  man  \^'ard  Farnell  was, 
when  folks  thought  he  had  money  !  They  fairly  worshipped 
him.  They  '11  worship  you,  Mr.  What's-yer-name,  if  you  take 
his  place,  and  make  a  big  show,  and  humbug  'em  enough. 
Look  at  me  !  I  don't  make  a  show.  I  don't  humbug.  I  'm 
a  cynical  old  sinner,  and  some  folks  would  like  to  kick  me 
out  of  their  houses,  but  they  don't.  They  like  to  have  me 
come  into  their  houses.  Know  why,  Mr.  What  's-yer-name  ? 
'Cause  I  've  got  fhoney,  and  they  know  it." 

Down  came  the  emphasizing  cane  on  the  hearth.  Mrs. 
Fenway  was  "mortified  to  death,"  while  Mr.  Fenway  sat  by 
and  laughed,  like  a  great  goose,  so  absurd !  as  she  duly  in- 
formed him  in  the  course  of  the  aforesaid  curtain  lecture. 

"  Come,  Lottie,"  she  whispered,  "  le'  's  pass  round  the 
apples,  or  we  never  shall  stop  their  mouths,  or  get  rid  of  'em. 
You  step  and  get  the  tumblers,  and  some  knives  and  plates." 

Ever  since  her  marriage,  Lottie  could  scarcely  enter  her 
father's  house  without  being  called  upon  to  perform  some 
domestic  service,  while  ^Lirian  played  the  lady  ;  and  she  now 
obeyed,  as  a  matter  of  course.  On  the  arrival  of  the  glasses, 
the  little  woman  nudged  her  husband  impatiently. 

"  Come,  Mr.  Fenway,  ain't  you  going  to  give  the  company 
any  cider  to-night  ? " 


74  farnell's  folly. 

At  the  same  time  she  had  a  secret  misgiving  that  Mr. 
Daskill  would  look  upon  cider  as  vulgar. 

"  Fenway  alluz  treats  his  comp'ny  perty  well,"  remarked 
Mr.  Wetherspun,  as  Miles  took  up  the  pitcher.  "My  wife 
often  says  to  me  when  we  're  goin'  out  of  an  evenin',  '  If 
there 's  no  pa'tic'lar  place  ye  care  to  go  to,'  srys  she,  *  s'pose 
ye  jest  look  into  Fenway's,'  says  she  ;  'we'll  git  treated  about 
as  well  there  as  anywheres,'  says  she  ;  an'  it 's  about  so." 

"  I  don't  think  I  ever  made  sich  a  remark  in  my  life ! " 
retorted  Mrs.  Wetherspun.  '^Vou  may  have  said  it,  for  it's 
you,  I  'm  sure,  that  drinks  the  cider." 

"You  like  a  glass  of  cider  jest  as  well  as  I  do  ;  now  I  '11 
leave  it  to  the  folks  if  ye  don't.  I  '11  leave  it  to  you,  Mis' 
Fenway,  if  my  wife  don't  appear  to  take  hern  with  about  as 
good  a  relish  as  the  rest  on  us." 

"I'm  sure,"  said  Mrs.  Fenway,  restraining  her  temper 
only  out  of  respect  for  Mr.  Daskill,  "you're  both  welcome 
to  a  glass.  It's  a  very  small  matter,  hardly  worth  making  so 
much  talk  about,"  she  added  tartly,  in  spite  of  herself. 

"  Try  a  glass,  Mr.  Daskill,"  said  Miles  Fenway.  "  I  never 
offer  my  guests  anything  stronger,  nor  take  anything  stronger 
myself.  But  I  've  a  notion  that  a  glass  of  cider  does  me 
good;  it  corrects  a  bilious  habit  I  am  subject  to." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Daskill,  receiving  a  glass  and  hold- 
ing it  up  to  the  light.  "  That 's  handsome !  Here  's  to  the 
prosperity  of  the  fork-factory  !  " 

"Thank  you,"  said  Miles,  standing  before  the  fireplace. 
"Allow  me  to  propose  the  new  branch  house  of  Goldfinch 
and  Company." 

Mr.  Daskill  smiled,  nodding  also  to  Marian  and  her  mother, 
as  he  drank. 

"  I  don't  see  how  anybody  mn  like  the  taste  on  't !  Ugh  !  " 
said  Mrs.  Wetherspun,  with  a  remarkably  wry  face  even  for 
her,  after  a  deep  sip. 


HOW    MR.    DASKILL    WAS    ENTERTAINED.  75 

"Don't  drink  it  for  compliment's  sake,  I  beg!"  said  Mrs. 
Fenway. 

"Oh,  I  don't,"  replied  Mrs.  Wetherspun  resignedly.  "I 
think  it  doos  me  good." 

In  which  way  of  thinking,  that  exemplary  female  had  the 
resolution  to  force  upon  herself  the  contents  of  her  first  glass, 
and  also  of  a  second,  in  the  course  of  the  evening. 

"  Mr.  Fenway  believes  in  the  old-time  institutions,"  ob- 
served Mr.  Wetherspun,  blinking  and  happy,  as  he  sat  tipped 
back  in  his  corner,  with  his  glass  between  his  knees.  "  His 
house  alluz  reminds  me  of  twenty  or  thirty  year  ago.  We 
alluz  used  to  have  apples  an'  cider  on  the  hath,  'fore  stoves 
come  instid  o'  fireplaces,  an'  cider  kin'  o'  went  out  o'  fashion 
arter  these  new-fangled  temperance  notions  got  around." 

"  Temperance  the  granny ! "  snarled  old  Carolus  con- 
temptuously ;  and  you  should  have  seen  him  nod  and  grimace 
at  the  glass  held  tremblingly  in  his  palsied  hand.  "They 
may  preach  till  all  's  blue,  I  '11  drink  my  glass  o'  cider." 
And  he  spilled  a  stream  all  the  way  up  his  waistcoat,  as  he 
carried  the  glass  to  his  lips. 

"You  don't  often  see  sich  roustin'  fires  as  ]\Ir.  Fenway 
keeps,"  said  Mr.  Wetherspun,  blinking  over  his  cider  at  Mr. 
Daskill. 

"  Fireplaces  have  gone  out  of  fashion,  except  that  we  see 
now  and  then  a  little  grate  full  of  coal,"  replied  Mr.  Daskill, 
with  beautiful  condescension. 

"  I  notice  that  furnaces  are  getting  to  be  all  the  rage  in 
some  places,"  said  Mr.  Fenway.  "  They  put  what  I  call  the 
cheerfulest  feature  of  our  old-fashioned  housekeeping  away 
out  of  sight  in  the  cellar.  And  going  into  some  of  your  fine 
houses,  I  can't  help  thinking  that  modern  polite  society 
serves  some  of  the  liveliest  and  most  picturesque  traits  of 
human  nature  in  the  same  way.  Our  hearty,  healthy  native 
impulses   are    covered  up,    and  instead  of   the  open  flash 


y6  farnell's  folly. 

and  sparkle,  you  get  a  hot  breath,  as  from  the  infernal  re- 
gions ! '' 

"That  is  true  of  a  certain  so-called  refined  society,"  re- 
plied Mr.  Daskill,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  knew  the  best. 
"Where  refinement  is  merely  an  affectation,  society  is  no 
doubt  all  the  more  corrupt  inwardly  for  the  outward  restraints 
and  disguises  it  puts  on.  But  true  culture  brings  out  what 
is  most  interesting  in  tlie  individual,  —  polishes  the  human 
diamond,  instead  of  destroying  its  brilliancy." 

Ah,  what  an  elegant,  what  an  altogether  superior  man  he 
was !  sitting  there,  the  centre  of  the  circle,  so  entirely  at  his 
ease,  and  speaking  so  fluently  and  so  well,  amending  and 
developing  Mr.  Fenway's  imperfectly  expressed  thought ;  his 
head  just  a  trifle  on  one  side  and  ever  so  little  thrown  back, 
while  he  looked  over  expressively  at  Marian  with  a  tender, 
intelligent  light  in  his  half-closed  eyes.  Mrs.  Fenway  was 
happy. 

But  just  then  garrulous  little  Wetherspun,  who  had  not  un- 
derstood a  word  of  the  conversation  beyond  the  allusion  to 
furnaces,  broke  in  briskly  :  — 

"  Fenway  here  has  a  way  o'  gittin'  his  firewood  so  's  't  he 
can  afford  to  burn  a  good  deal  more  on  't  'n  mos'  people  can. 
He  has  to  buy  a  good  lot  o'  timber  fer  his  fork  handles  ;  an' 
the  way  he  gen'ly  manages  is  to  buy  a  hull  tree,  mabbe  a 
passel  o'  trees  ;  he  uses  the  straight-grained  parts  fer  handles, 
and  then  he  has  all  the  rest  to  do  what  he  's  a  min'  ter  with. 
I  often  say  to  my  wife,  I  says,  '  I  only  wish  I  had  the  run  o' 
Fenway's  wood-pile  ! '  As  wood  growed  skurce,  I  done  what 
other  folks  done  in  this  part  o'  the  country.  Fust,  I  bricked 
up  the  big  fireplace,  up  to  the  farm,  so  's  to  make  it  smaller, 
an'  put  in  a  false  back  to  save  the  back-log.  We  tried  that  a 
few  years  ;  then  my  wife,  she  got  possessed  to  have  a  stove, 
an'  nothin'  would  suit  but  one  o'  them  'ere  railway  cook- 
stoves,  that  was  all  the  go  when  they  fust  come  round." 


HOW    MR.    DASKILL    WAS    ENTERTAINED.  7/ 

"I  guess  'twas  you  that  was  possessed  jest  as  much  as 
ever  I  was,"  said  Mrs.  Wetherspun.  (She  made  another  wry- 
face  over  her  cider,  exclaiming  again,  "  How  can  anybody  Uke 
it !  ")  "  I  got  tired  to  death  hearin'  you  fret  an'  groan  about 
the  wood  we  burnt." 

"  Wull,  my  wife,  she  alluz  burnt  wood  as  if 't  would  n't 
bring  nothin'  in  market,  and  did  n't  cost  no  elbow  grease,  nor 
nothin,'  to  chop  and  haul  it.  Though  I  don't  think,"  added 
the  sociable  little  man,  "  't  ever  I  fretted  an'  groaned  about  it 
any  to  hurt." 

Here  Mr.  Daskill  changed  the  topic  of  discourse  by  asking 
if  much  more  might  not  be  done  by  an  enterprising  firm  than 
ever  Farnell  did,  in  buying  up  grain  and  wool  in  that  region. 

"That,"  said  he,  with  a  glance  at  old  Carolus,  who  was  fast 
asleep,  with  his  empty  glass  resting  in  his  hand  in  his  lap, 
"  that  will  help  the  farmers  instead  of  ruining  them." 

"No  doubt  of  it,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Fenway;  "although  this 
is  n't  the  wheat  country  it  used  to  be.  Farmers  can't  get  the 
crops  they  could  a  dozen  or  fifteen  years  ago." 

"  That 's  so,"  said  little  Wetherspun.  "  Ye  may  plaster  yet 
land,  an'  clover  it,  an'  summer  foller  it,  an'  try  their  new- 
fangled tricks  with  't,  but  ye  can't  coax  it  to  perdoose  what  it 
use'  ter  'ithout  coaxin'.  When  land  kin'  o'  gits  wore  out  fer 
wheat,  there  ain't  no  trick  't  ever  I  heered  tell  on  that  'II 
bring  it  up  agin.  We  can't  git  the  berry  noway,  like  what 
we  use'  ter  could.  The  yield  '11  be  light,  an'  the  berry  '11  be 
kin'  o'  shrunk,  an'  the  flower  '11  be  mean  quality,  spite  of  ye. 
I  'd  got  sick  o'  sowin'  winter  wheat,  'fore  ever  we  left  the 
farm.  Spring  wheat  done  better  fer  a  spell ;  but  that  don't 
make  fust-best  flour,  by  a  long  chalk.  So  I  says  to  my  wife, 
says  I,  '  Mammy,'  says  I,  '  we  've  got  'bout  enough  now  to  live 
on  economically,'  says  I.  '  Our  gals  'ave  got  married  off  '  — 
married  perty  well,  too,  one  on  'em  did,  husband 's  got  prop- 
erty ;  '  we  've  done  about  our  sheer  o'  hard  work,'  says  I,  '  an* 


78  farnell's  folly. 

if  I  git  any  kin'  of  a  decent  offer  fer  the  farm  I  'm  a  gunter 
sell,'  says  I." 

"  I  guess  't  was  a  good  deal  more  me  than  you  that  said 
that,"  replied  Mrs.  Wetherspun.  "  'T  ^Yas  about  the  hardest 
thing  't  ever  I  done.  Mis'  Fenway,  to  talk  my  husband  into 
the  notion  of  givin'  up  the  farm,  an'  settlin'  down  onto  a  little 
place  where  we  could  keep  a  cow  an'  pig,  an'  raise  our  own 
garden  sass,  an'  live  on  the  inlrist  of  our  money." 

Mr.  Wetherspun  took  up  the  theme  again.  "  Got  a  fust- 
rate  cow  —  raised  her  from  a  calf;  ain't  nary  blemish  nor 
trick  about  her;  gives  a  brimmin'  pailful;  come  in  about 
a  month  ago,  —  ninth  o'  Janewary,  wan't  it,  mammy?  You 
sot  it  down  in  the  alm'nic," 

Mrs.  Wetherspun  said  it  was  the  'leventh;  Mr.  Wether- 
spun insisted  that  't  was  the  ninth ;  when  she  declared  that 
she  had  as  good  a  mind  to  step  home  an'  git  the  alm'nic  as 
ever  she  had  to  eat.  Mr,  Fenway  was  laughing ;  Mr.  Daskill, 
smiling  blandly,  was  conversing  aside  with  Marian  ;  and  Mrs. 
Fenway  was  frowning  and  fidgeting,  and  wondering  how  she 
had  ever  been  able  to  tolerate  these  silly  people  in  her  house, 
and  what  would  Mr.  Daskill  think,  when  old  Mr.  Carolus 
awoke  from  his  nap,  and  suddenly  shrieked  out :  — 

"What  your  folks  going  to  do  with  Farnell's  Folly,  Mr. 
What's-yer-name  ?  You  had  a  mortgage  on  't,  —  a  mortgage 
that  kivered  it  and  toppled  over  a  little  besides,  he,  he ! 
did  n't  it  ?  Farnell  wanted  me  to  take  a  mortgage  on  't, 
but  I  would  n't  tech  it !     I  would  n't  tech  the  thing !  " 

"We  shall  do  well  enough  with  it,"  said  Mr.  Daskill.  "If 
I  continue  in  charge  of  the  business  here,  I  shall  fit  it  up 
in  good  shape,  and  either  sell  it  or  make  it  my  summer  resi- 
dence, according  to  circumstances."  And  Mrs.  Fenway  saw 
unmistakable  matrimonial  intentions  in  the  look  he  cast  on 
Marian. 

"  J  would  n't  tech  it  with  a  ten  foot  pole  !     I  was  n't  such 


HOW   MR.    DASKILL    WAS    ENTERTAINED.  79 

a  fool !  "  chuckled  old  Carolus.  "  Mr.  Fenway,  I  '11  take 
another  glass  of  cider." 

"  A  man  might  make  a  perty  slick  kin'  of  a  place  on  't  yit," 
declared  the  sociable  Wetherspun.  ("  Don't  care  if  I  do,  half 
a  glass,  seein'  you  got  the  pitcher  in  your  hand.  There,  there, 
Mr.  Fenway!)  I'm  beat  if  Farnell  didn't  make  it  look  a 
plaguey  sight  better  'n  ever  I  thought  he  could.  We  all  con- 
sidered he  was  as  good  as  gold ;  an'  as  we  had  a  little  money 
to  spare,  my  wife  thought  —  " 

"  Now,  don't  go  to  say  in'  /  thought !  'T  was  you  that 
thought  you  'd  better  let  Farnell  have  it.  But  if  you  'd 
listened  to  me,"  Mrs.  Wetherspun  was  saying,  when  Mr. 
Wetherspun  interrupted  her  in  his  turn. 

"  If  I  'd  listened  to  you,  I  should  'a'  took  them  four  hundred 
dollars  out  o'  the  bank  an'  lent  'em  to  Ward  Farnell,  to  have 
'em  safe,  and  to  git  bigger  intrist !  Lucky  enough  I  stopped 
to  consider  on  't." 

"  You  considered  on  't ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Wetherspun  in- 
dignantly ;  "  when  't  was  me  that  hild  back." 

So  they  had  it,  first  one  and  then  the  other,  till  Miles 
Fenway,  laughing  quite  as  much  at  his  wife's  ludicrous  dis- 
tress as  at  the  dispute  that  occasioned  it,  passed  the  apples. 

"  I  'm  obleeged  to  ye,"  said  Mrs.  Wetherspun,  looking 
sharply,  and  feeling  two  or  three  before  selecting  the  nicest 
Spitzenburg  in  the  dish.  "Not  any  plate,  thank  you.  Mis' 
Fenway ;  I  guess  I  won't  eat  it  now,  arter  the  cider.  I  'II 
carry  it  hum,  if  you've  no  objections." 

"  Dear,  no  I  "  said  Mrs.  Fenway.     "  Take  a  couple." 

"  I  don'  know.     Ye  goin'  to  take  one,  daddy  ?  " 

Mr.  Wetherspun  said  he  was  ;  but  Mrs.  Wetherspun  took 
another,  just  the  same. 

"  I  guess  I  '11  take  mine  hum,  too,"  said  Mr.  Wetherspun. 
"  I'm  a  good  while  a-eatin'  an  apple,  my  teeth  'ave  gin  out 
so,  late  years.     I  hain't  but  about  a  tooth  'n'  a  half  in  my 


8o  farnell's  folly. 

head.  Jest  look  a'  that,  Fenway ! "  And  the  little  man 
stretched  his  jaws  asunder,  and  poked  his  head  forward,  ex- 
posing an  unspeakable  chasm,  which  Fenway,  with  extreme 
good  humor,  put  on  his  spectacles  to  explore.  "  My  wife, 
now"  (the  chasm  closing  again),  "she  's  got  false  teeth,  an' 
she  can  manage  to  stow  away  an  apple  as  quick  agin  as  I  can, 
if  I  was  to  die," 

"Put  another  in  your  pocket,  Mr.  Wetherspun,"  said  Mrs. 
Fenway,  "  and  take  it  home,  if  you  think  you  must  be  going, 
though  I  don't  see  why  you  need  to  hurry,  (Get  his  hat  and 
coat,  Walter.)  " 

Mr.  Wetherspun  looked  as  if  he  did  n't  see  why  he  need  be 
in  a  hurry,  either ;  but  said,  "  I  s'pose  we  better  think  o' 
startin',  hadn't  we,  mammy  ?  " 

"  It 's  about  time  old  folks  was  a-gittin'  hum,  I  s'pose,"  re- 
plied Mrs.  Wetherspun,  looking  very  hard  at  Mr.  Carolus, 
but  still  making  no  movement  to  start, 

"  Oh  !  must  you  ?  "  cried  Mrs,  Fenway,  "  If  you  re'ly  say 
you  must!"     And  she  made  haste  to  get  the  lady 's  things, 

"  Oh  !  I'm  obleeged  to  ye  !  "  said  Mrs,  Wetherspun,  in  a 
faint  voice.  "Jest  lay  'em  on  a  chair;  don't  trouble  your- 
self to  hold  'em,  I  beg," 

"  No  trouble  at  all !  "  And  Mrs,  Fenway,  with  the  greatest 
cheerfulness,  insisted  on  standing  with  her  visitor's  bonnet 
and  shawl,  until  she,  very  reluctantly,  put  them  on. 

In  the  mean  time  Walter  had  got  little  Wetherspun  into 
his  overcoat,  and  the  prospect  of  their  speedy  departure 
looked  very  cheering  indeed. 

But  now  Mr.  Daskill  was  pressing  Miss  Fenway  for  a  song; 
whereupon  Mrs.  Wetherspun  said:  — 

"  I  did  want  to  hear  one  of  Marian's  perty  little  pyaner 
tunes;  she  doos  play  so  sweet  an'  perty!  Shall  we  wait  jest 
a  minute,  daddy  >     We  need  n't  take  off  our  things." 

So  they  sat  down  with  their  things  on,  to  wait  for  the  perty 


HOW    MR.    DASKILL    WAS   ENTERTAINED.  8 1 

little  pyaner  tune.  How  the  vivacious  Mrs.  Fenway  managed 
to  restrain  her  feelings  under  the  circumstances  (it  may  be 
said  in  passing)  is  to  this  day  a  mystery  to  those  who  know 
her.     But  there  was  no  help  for  it. 

"  Well,  do  play,  and  done  with  it !  "  she  whispered, 

"  And  the  idea ! "  she  remarked  to  the  writer  of  this  history 
aftenvard,  "my  daughter  had  scarcely  taken  her  seat  at  the 
piano,  and  begun  to  sing,  when  those  ill-mannered  Wether- 
spuns,  that  had  been  so  anxious  to  hear  her,  put  in  to  talk, 
and  kept  their  everlasting  clack  going  so  you  could  n't  have 
told  whether  the  song  was  *  Annie  Laurie,'  or  '  Come  over  the 
mountain  to  me,  love.'  I  never  was  so  provoked  in  my  life  !" 
which  was  certainly  saying  a  great  deal. 

At  first  the  impatient  little  woman  tried,  with  gestures  and 
hishes  addressed  to  Walter,  who  was  n't  making  a  noise,  to 
convey  a  wholesome  hint  to  those  who  were ;  but  in  vain.  At 
the  end  of  the  song,  therefore,  little  mollified  by  Mr.  Daskill's 
polite  praises  of  it,  she  exclaimed  :  — 

"  There,  Marian  !  I  would  n't  sing  any  more  :  you  don't 
do  yourself  justice  to-night." 

Which  was  true  enough,  Marian  being  troubled  about  too 
many  things  to  put  much  spirit  into  her  music:  her  singular 
adventures  with  Mr.  Daskill,  —  and  did  he  really  fancy  her  as 
much  as  he  appeared  to  ?  and  Will  Rayburn,  why  had  he 
not  kept  his  appointment  ?  and  would  she  be  glad  now,  or 
embarrassed,  when  he  came  ?  might  he  not  at  this  moment 
be  passing,  and,  by  a  glance  under  the  curtain,  see  his 
formidable  rival  bending  over  her  as  he  smilingly  turned  the 
music  leaves  ? 

"  You  must  n't  sit  with  your  things  on,  Mrs.  Wetherspun ; 
you  won't  feel  them  when  you  go  out,"  said  Mrs.  Fenway, 
with  extreme  solicitude  for  the  health  of  her  guests.  ("You 
go,  Lottie  !  maybe  that  will  start  'em.)  What !  you  going, 
too,  Lottie  ? " 


82  farnell's  folly. 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  must,  on  account  of  the  baby,"  said  Lottie, 
putting  on  her  shawl.  "  Are  you  going  home  with  me,  Mr. 
Wether  spun  ? " 

She  playfully  took  his  arm,  said,  "  Good-night,  all !  "  and  cut 
short  his  interminable  leavetakings  by  pulling  him  out  of  the 
house.  "  Good-night,  Mrs.  Wetherspun  !  "  she  called  from 
the  doorstep,  as  she  hurried  that  lady's  bewildered  little 
husband  away. 

"  WuU,  if  that  ain't  smart !  "  said  Mrs.  Wetherspun,  stung 
with  jealousy,  strange  as  it  may  seem  that  that  amiable  qual- 
ity should  so  long  have  outlasted  her  front  teeth. 

"  You  '11  have  to  run,  or  you  '11  lose  your  little  man,  sure  as 
the  world!"  said  jolly  Mr.  Fenway.  "Lottie's  husband  is 
away,  you  know  !  " 

"  Smart !  "  repeated  Mrs.  Wetherspun,  with  her  sourest  ex- 
pression of  countenance,  hurriedly  tying  her  bonnet-strings, 
"  to  leave  me  to  go  alone  !  " 

*'  Here  's  Mr.  Carolus  ;  he's  too  gallant  to  suffer  that,"  said 
Mrs.  Fenway.  "  Mr.  Carolus,  Mrs.  Wetherspun  wants  you 
to  beau  her  home." 

"  I  '11  beau  her  home  ;  I  '11  beau  her  to  the  devil,  if  she 
wants  me  to  !  "  said  the  old  man.  "  But  she  must  wait  my 
time.    I  'm  going  to  eat  an  apple  and  drink  a  glass  of  cider  yet." 

The  idea  of  the  lady's  waiting  for  that  quite  appalled  poor 
Mrs.  Fenway. 

"Well,  well!  never  mind,  Mr.  Carolus;  she  thinks  she 
can't  stop." 

Indeed,  Mrs.  Wetherspun,  exasperated  by  the  sound  of 
Lottie's  laughter  as  she  ran  off  with  Mr.  Wetherspun  down 
the  street,  had  no  notion  of  stopping.  She  rushed  out  in 
pursuit,  but  rushed  back  again  for  her  apples,  which  she  had 
left  on  the  piano,  and  which  she  could  not  afiford  to  lose, 
whatever  became  of  her  husband,  then  sallied  forth  again, 
ejaculating,  "  Smart !  smart !  I  should  say !  "  until  out  of 
sight  and  hearing. 


MR,  Fenway's  account  of  himself.  83 


CHAPTER  X. 

MR.    FENWAY    GIVES    SOME    ACCOUNT    OF    HIMSELF. 

"  There  ! "  said  Mrs.  Fenway  through  her  firm  little  teeth, 
shutting  the  door  and  locking  it  after  her  guests,  as  if  still 
afraid  of  their  coming  back  for  something,  "  I  thought  they 
never  would  go !  " 

Returning  to  the  sitting-room,  she  found  her  husband  and 
Walter  laughing  heartily  at  the  pair,  Mr.  Daskill  chatting 
with  Marian,  and  Carolus  scraping  and  munching  his  apple. 

If  the  old  cynic  had  attended  strictly  to  that  business,  the 
liberal  housewife  would  not  have  cared  how  many  apples  he 
scraped  and  munched.  But  warmed  by  the  cider  and  re- 
freshed by  his  nap,  he  twisted  himself  about  in  his  chair, 
and  addressed  himself  with  most  inopportune  and  persistent 
familiarity  to  the  preoccupied  Adolphus,  spattering  the  lively 
apple  juice  as  he  scraped,  and  dropping  the  moist  pomage 
from  his  trembling  knife  as  he  talked  and  ate. 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what,  ]\Ir.  What's-yer-name,"  he  was  saying, 
"  you  '11  find  our  friend  Fenway  has  done  more  to  build  up 
this  place  than  any  other  ten  men,  except  myself.  He  's  the 
father  of  the  town,  the  father  of  the  town,  Mr,  What's-yer- 
name." 

"You  must  be  its  grandfather,  then,  Mr,  Carolus,"  said 
Mrs,  Fenway,  "for  you  furnished  the  inhabitants  with  rum  a 
good  many  years  before  my  husband  began  to  furnish  them 
with  pitchforks." 

"Very  good!  very  good  !"  said  Mr.  Carolus,  "Mrs,  Fen- 
way, I  owe  you  one,"  — which  he  proceeded  to  pay,  "  I  sold 
rum  to  your  father,  and  sent  him  home  tipsy  many  a  time 


84  farnell's  folly. 

'fore  ever  you  saw  your  husband.  'Twan't  my  fault,  neither ; 
he  would  take  too  much."  Scrape,  scrape ;  munch,  munch. 
He  had  paid  with  usury. 

"Mr.  Carolus  !  "  began  the  little  woman  in  a  sudden  biaze  ; 
but  just  then  Mr.  Daskill,  with  that  admirable  tact  for  which 
he  was  distinguished,  diverted  attention  from  this  trifling 
episode,  which  he  appeared  not  to  notice,  by  asking  Mr. 
Fenway  how  he  came  to  be  a  fork-maker, 

"  I  don't  know  that  my  wife  will  let  me  tell,"  said  Miles ; 
*'  she  never  likes  to  be  reminded  of  the  time  when  we  lived 
in  a  little  shanty  where  Wetherspun's  house  now  stands,  and 
I  blew  my  own  bellows  and  shod  horses  in  a  log  shop  no 
bigger  than  this  room." 

"  I  should  think  you  were  telling  about  it  now,"  said  Mrs. 
Fenway.     "  I  'm  sure  it  can't  be  of  interest  to  anybody." 

But  Mr.  Daskill  remarked  that  the  histor}--  of  a  large  and 
prosperous  business,  built  up  by  degrees  from  humble  be- 
ginnings, always  possessed  an  interest  for  him ;  and  Mr. 
Fenway,  reckless  of  the  curtain  lecture  that  awaited  him, 
proceeded. 

"  I  came  to  this  town  from  Madison  County,  twenty-six 
years  ago  this  spring.  I  had  been  a  blacksmith's  appren- 
tice," he  went  on,  regardless  of  his  wife's  forbidding  frown. 
"  I  was  just  out  of  my  time,  —  twenty-one  years  old,  had  the 
longest  pair  of  shanks  and  the  shortest  pair  of  trousers  that 
ever  came  together,  combed  my  hair  where  I  could  see  it  in 
a  cracked  looking-glass,  and  was  altogether  as  complete  a 
gawky  as  ever  you  set  eyes  on." 

"  That  he  was !  that  he  was  ! "  crowed  old  Carolus.  "  The 
greenest  peep  that  ever  went  on  two  feet." 

Miles  laughed  heartily,  and  said,  "  Mr.  Carolus  would  n't 
trust  me  for  a  shoestring." 

"  I  can't  believe,  father,  that  you  were  ever  so  verdant  as 
you  pretend,"  said  Marian. 


MR.  Fenway's  account  of  himself.  85 

"  He  wasn't,"  said  Mrs.  Fenway  shortly, 

"  Wife,  you  've  forgotten.  It  has  always  been  a  wonder  to 
me  since,  how  your  father  came  to  hire  me,  and  how  you  came 
to  marry  me.  Luckily  for  me,  your  ideas  of  a  beau  were  very 
different  in  those  days  from  what  they  are  now.  If  such  an 
awkward,  ungainly,  four-bladed  jack-knife  of  a  chap  as  came  to 
court  my  wife,  Mr.  Daskill,  had  afterwards  come  to  court  her 
daughter,  she  would  have  let  us  know  whether  she  thought 
him  green.  The  truth  is,  times  have  changed,  and  the  popu- 
lar notion  regarding  marriage  has  changed.  Something  we 
poor  country  people  had  scarcely  heard  of  then  has  come  up 
and  usurped  the  place  of  common  sense,  and  now  overrules 
a  man's  household,  his  happiness,  business,  religion,  —  every- 
thing. I  mean  style.  A  man  can't  go  to  church  now,  unless  he 
goes  in  st}-le.  It  would  be  dreadful  to  be  obliged  to  go  to  heaven 
in  the  old-fashioned  way.  I  know  plenty  of  nice,  pious  people 
who  would  much  prefer  to  travel  the  other  road  genteelly.  The 
world's  opinion  of  them  seems  to  be  of  far  greater  impor- 
tance than  what  they  themselves  are.  Even  a  man's  dinner, 
nowadays,  is  often  a  matter  of  less  consideration  with  him 
than  what  his  neighbors  think  of  it.  And  what  makes  this 
state  of  things  so  ridiculous  for  us  common  country  people, 
Mr.  Daskill,  is  this,  that  our  so-called  style  is  only  a  paltry 
and  cheap  imitation  of  your  grand  way  of  doing  things  in  the 
great  cities." 

"  There  is  plenty  of  the  cheap  kind  you  describe,  even  in 
the  great  cities,"  remarked  Mr.  Daskill. 

"  But  there 's  very  little  of  it  here,  very  little  indeed ! " 
said  Mrs.  Fenway,  positively. 

"It's  very  small,  what  there  is  of  it,"  said  Miles;  "but 
there  's  a  great  deal  of  it.  It  makes  the  law  of  marriage,  as 
well  as  of  everything  else.  In  my  day,  it  was  thought  that  if 
a  young  man  and  woman  could  get  a  comfortable  living  sepa- 
rately, they  could  get  quite  as  good  a  living  together.     They 


86  farnell's  folly. 

were  not  ashamed  to  get  married  and  go  to  housekeeping  in 
the  same  style  they  had  been  brought  up  to,  or  even  to  come 
down  from  it  a  little.  A  wife  was  regarded  as  a  helpmeet. 
Young  men,  accordingly,  did  n't  feel  as  they  do  now,  —  that  it 
is  n't  safe  or  respectable  to  take  a  wife,  until  they  can  sup- 
port her  in  elegant  idleness.  They  married  to  gratify  their 
own  hearts,  not  other  people's  eyes.  If  the  modern  notion  had 
prevailed  in  my  time,  I  should  have  had  to  wait  ten  or  fifteen 
years,  before  I  could  have  had  the  face  to  ask  my  wife  to 
marry  me.  As  it  was,  she  did  n't  mind  my  long  shanks,  nor 
my  short  trousers,  nor  my  small  income,  nor  my  big  feet,  nor 
the  fact  that  I  was  only  a  hand  in  her  father's  shop.  That 
shows  that  she  was  in  love  with  me.  She  '11  deny  it  now,  but 
she  was.  We  got  married  on  less  than  three  hundred  a  year  ; 
set  up  housekeeping  in  as  snug  a  shanty  as  ever  you  saw,  v.'ith 
only  two  rooms ;  went  to  work  with  a  will,  and  were  as  happy 
as  the  birds  that  sung  for  us  in  the  old  elm-tree  before  our 
door.     Were  n't  we,  wife  ? " 

"  I  thought  you  were  going  to  tell  about  the  first  forks  you 
made,"  said  Mrs.  Fenway  impatiently. 

"  Certainly ;  I  'm  coming  to  that.  My  father-in-law's  health 
and  business  faculties  were  beginning  to  fail  him  —  " 
"  For  the  reason  I  mentioned,"  squeaked  old  Carolus. 
"  And  it  was  n't  long  before  I  found  myself  master  of  the 
shop.  There  I  shod  horses,  and  mended  ploughs,  and  log- 
chains  for  the  farmers,  on  my  own  account  for  a  year  or  two. 
But,  you  see,  I  'm  too  tall  a  man  to  be  stooping  all  day  over  a 
horse's  hoof,  holding  his  leg  up  between  my  knees,  and  I  was 
soon  glad  to  leave  that  part  to  a  man  I  hired.  People 
brought  me  all  sorts  of  things  to  mend,  from  a  penknife  to  a 
wagon-tire.  One  day  Mr.  Wetherspun,  whose  acquaintance 
you  had  the  pleasure  of  making  just  now,  came  in  with  a  broken 
pitchfork.  It  was  a  poor  thing,  and  I  told  him  I  could  n't 
mend  that  so  easily  as  I  could  make  him  a  new  one.     So  I 


MR,  Fenway's  account  of  himself.  87 

set  to  work  and  hammered  out  a  fork  ;  and  that  was  the  first 
fork  I  ever  made.  In  a  few  days  he  came  back,  and  said  that 
was  the  best  fork  in  his  ha}'^ield,  and  wanted  me  to  make  him 
a  couple  more.  Then  somehow  his  neighbors  took  it  into 
their  heads  that  I  could  get  up  a  good  article  in  that  line ; 
they  could  n't  buy  anything  at  the  stores  so  light  and  strong 
and  elastic  ;  and  so,  you  see,  I  had  my  hands  full.  I  found  I 
had  made  a  hit ;  but  it  was  two  years  before  I  was  able  to 
turn  it  to  much  account,  for  lack  of  means.  With  such  tools 
as  I  had  to  work  with,  I  could  n't  compete  with  the  regular 
fork-manufacturers,  of  course  ;  but  I  imagined,  if  I  could 
build  an  addition  to  my  shop,  and  put  in  a  couple  of  trip- 
hammers, and  a  grindstone  or  two,  and  machiner}'  for  making 
the  handles,  I  could  establish  a  profitable  business.  So  I 
went  to  a  man  who  had  money,  and  asked  him  for  a  loan  of 
a  thousand  dollars." 

"That  was  me,"  said  Mr.  Carolus,  still  scraping  and 
munching.  "  He  came  to  me,  and  perfectly  astonished  me 
by  asking  for  a  thousand  dollars,  on  no  better  security  than 
his  note,  and  a  lien  on  the  new  shop." 

"  Which  you  let  him  have,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Daskill  con- 
fidentially. 

"No,  I  didn't.  It  was  a  mistake.  I  didn't  know  Mr, 
Fenway  then  as  I  do  now,  and  it  was  a  mistake  ;  but  I  should 
do  just  so  again  under  the  circumstances,  —  on  principle,  sir, 
on  principle." 

"  Mr.  Carolus  believes  in  lending  money  for  his  own 
advantage,  not  his  neighbor's," 

"  So  does  every  man,  every  man,  sir  !  I  never  advanced  a 
dollar  for  an  accommodation  to  anybody,  and,  so  help  me 
Jehoshaphat,  1  never  will !  " 

"  Besides,"  said  Mr.  Fenway,  "  I  had  lost  him  the  sale  of  a 
few  forks  by  my  puttering.  He  cursed  me  and  my  shop  in 
strong  language,  —  he  is  noted  for  strong  language,  —  run  his 


88  farnell's  folly. 

eye  up  me  as  if  I  had  been  a  flagstaff,  and  he,  a  small  boy, 
astonished  at  some  creature  at  the  top,  and  told  me  to  go  to 
the  —  what  was  it,  Mr.  Carolus?  " 

"  I  guess  it  was  the  devil.  I  think  I  told  you  to  go  to  the 
devil.  It  was  just  like  me.  I  did  n't  suppose  you  'd  ever 
pay  a  dollar.     It  was  a  d d  mistake  !  " 

Mr.  Carolus  nodded,  and  smacked,  and  called  for  another 
glass  of  cider. 

"  I  '11  give  you  another  glass  if  you  '11  agree  not  to  swear," 
said  the  good-natured  Miles.  "  You  "are  one  of  those  men, 
Mr.  Carolus,  in  whom  a  little  cider  develops  an  astonishing 
tendency  to  profanity,  and  you  're  quite  profane  enough  when 
you  're  sober." 

"  Say  what  you  please,  but  give  me  the  cider,  give  me  the 
cider !  "  The  old  cynic  held  out  his  glass  with  shaking  hand. 
"  Mr.  Fenway  and  I  have  always  been  very  plain  with  each 
other,  very  plain.  I  swear,  but  I  don't  get  drunk.  No  man 
ever  yet  saw  old  Carolus  drunk  !  " 

"  He  was  ver}'  plain  with  me  at  the  time  I  speak  of,"  said 
Miles.  "  He  might  have  advanced  my  fortunes  five  years  by 
befriending  me  then ;  but,  instead  of  that,  he  sent  me  to — 
well,  a  particular  friend  of  his.  He  missed  the  satisfaction 
of  helping  an  honest,  poor  man  ;  but  that  was  n't  much  to 
him.  I  missed  the  thousand  dollars,  and  that  was  a  good 
deal  to  me.  I  got  the  shop,  though,  after  a  while,  in  spite  of 
him  ;  and  one  morning  was  heard  the  music  of  those  delight- 
ful trip-hammers.  Music  to  me,  sir !  I  began  to  make  forks 
on  a  large  scale.  Then,  how  to  get  my  forks  introduced  into 
market  ?  They  were  in  good  demand  right  around  here  ;  but 
that  demand  was  n't  extensive.  I  sent  samples  to  Buffalo, 
Rochester,  Detroit,  and  other  places.  Then  whenever  a  ped- 
ler  came  along,  I  made  it  a  point  to  trade  with  him,  giving 
him  a  few  of  my  forks  in  exchange  for  his  kitchen  ware  and 
dry  goods.     He  was  pretty  sure,  when  he  came   this  way 


MR.  Fenway's  account  of  himself.  89 

again,  to  want  more  forks.  Still,  it  was  ui>hill  work.  I  was 
in  debt,  and  didn't  know  how  I  was  ever  to  get  out  of  debt, 
and  I  began  to  suspect  Mr.  Carolus  was  right  in  refusing  to 
lend  me  money.  My  wife  said  I  was  a  fool ;  for  after  I  had 
got  my  machinery  going,  I  could  n't  sell  forks  enough  to  pay 
for  it.  I  believe  there's  a  time  in  the  history  of  almost  every 
such  enterprise  when  discouragement  hangs  like  a  black 
cloud  over  it,  and  you  think  it  will  never  see  blue  sky." 

"I  never  said  you  acted  like  a  fool,"  Mrs.  Fenway  de- 
clared. 

Miles  laughed.  "  Well,  I  won't  dispute  you  :  Mr.  Daskill 
might  think  the  Wetherspuns  had  got  back  again.  I  never 
blamed  my  wife  for  being  discouraged ;  the  idea  of  setting  up 
a  fork-factor}',  because  a  few  of  my  neighbors  had  thought  I 
could  make  a  serviceable  implement,  was  absurd,  as  she  took 
frequent  occasion  to  remind  me." 

"  Now,  Mr.  Fenway  !  " 

"Don't  interrupt  me,  Mrs,  Wetherspun.  To  add  to  our 
troubles,  we  had  grown  a  little  too  ambitious  since  we  had 
ceased  to  be  blacksmiths,  and  got  to  be  manufacturers.  The 
shanty  did  very  well  for  a  blacksmith's  family,  but  it 
would  n't  answer  at  all  for  a  manufacturer's  domestic  estab- 
lishment. We  must  move.  So  we  came  here.  This  was 
considered  a  grandish  sort  of  house  at  the  time,  though  I  be- 
lieve our  women  folks  have  been  growing  rather  ashamed  of 
it  of  late  years.  It  is  n't  the  style,  you  know.  My  wife  said 
she  blushed  for  the  old  house  after  Ward  Famell  built  his 
Folly.  I  believe  it  was  a  good  thing  for  the  neighborhood 
that  Farnell  failed  as  he  did :  -vve  should  all  have  to  build 
grand  houses,  if  he  had  n't.  That's  the  curse  that  follov>'s  the 
extravagance  of  one  or  two  :  others  think  they  must  imitate  it, 
whether  they  can  afford  to  or  not.  If  one  little  girl  in  school 
is  to  come  out  in  a  lovely  new  dress  on  exhibition  day,  that 
makes  twenty  other  little  girls   envious   and  unhappy,   and 


go  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

drives  a  dozen  mothers  distracted  ;  and  such  worrying  and 
hurr}dng,  sclieming  and  contriving,  as  you  '11  see  in  every 
house,  until  the  whole  twenty  are  rigged  out  in  finery  of  some 
sort,  is  enough  to  make  an  honest  parent  wish  —  My  wife 
has  got  over  behind  me  here,"  Miles  laughingly  interrupted 
himself,  "where  she  can  nudge  me,  if  I  am  saying  anything 
out  of  the  way;  and  as  her  elbow  has  been  playing  a  pretty 
lively  tattoo  on  my  back  for  the  last  minute  and  a  half,  I  sup- 
pose I  have  been  indiscreet  in  my  remarks.  Never  mind, 
we  '11  return  to  the  fork-factory,  if  you  are  interested," 

Mr.  Daskill  was,  and  Miles  went  on. 

"  It  was  a  hard  tug  and  a  steady  tug,  for  three  or  four 
years,  just  to  keep  the  thing  going.  I  had  n't  the  money  to 
advertise,  and  I  could  n't  get  the  money.  I  could  n't  find  a 
partner  willing  to  put  in  capital,  and  take  hold  with  me. 
That  was  the  state  of  things  when  a  young  fellow  who  had  ped- 
dled a  good  many  of  my  forks  stopped  here  one  da}^  and  let 
fall  a  remark  which  was  destined  to  effect  a  change  in  the  busi- 
ness. *  I  believe,'  says  he,  '  a  man  could  make  a  good  thing 
of  it  just  to  travel  with  your  forks  and  nothing  else,  and  in- 
troduce 'em  through  the  country.'  We  struck  a  bargain,  and 
in  a  few  weeks  he  started  out  with  a  load  of  forks.  His  way 
was  to  stop  at  every  farmhouse  and  country  store  ;  he  would 
show  a  man  on  the  spot  what  stuff  was  in  the  tines  by  jump- 
ing and  springing  on  'em ;  and  their  shape  showed  for  itself. 
The  result  was,  after  a  few  trips,  he  ordered  a  new  wagon 
built  expressly  for  the  business,  and  travelled  with  two  horses 
instead  of  one.  Soon  I  had  three  teams  going  in  the  same 
way.  The  business  began  to  look  up.  Wherever  the  forks 
became  known,  they  were  in  demand.  From  scores  of  small 
places,  orders  came  through  dealers  in  large  places,  who 
found  themselves  obliged  to  supply  my  forks.  I  still  keep 
one  man  travelling  constantly  for  me  ;  that  is  my  son-in-law, 
Geordie  Lorkins,  Lottie's  husband.  We  first  knew  him  as  a 
pedler,  and  I  gave  him  forks  in  exchange  for  —  " 


MR.    FENWAY  S    ACCOUNT    OF    HIMSELF.  9I 

Miles  felt  his  wife  nudging  him  again,  and  wondered  how 
he  was  going  wrong. 

"You  need  n't  call  him  a  pedler;  he  is  your  travelling 
agent,"  said  Mrs.  Fenway. 

"Well,  well!  often  as  I  have  heard  Lottie  reminded  that 
she  has  a  pedler  for  a  husband  ;  travelling  agent  is  good !  I  '11 
tell  Lottie  :  it  will  comfort  her." 

"  Is  he  the  gentleman  I  had  the  happiness  to  be  taken  for 
this  evening?"  asked  the  polite  Mr.  Daskill,  turning  to 
Marian. 

"  I  have  only  one  brother-in-law,"  replied  Marian,  innocent 
as  a  dove. 

"  And  only  one  dear  friend  ?  "  Adolphus  gave  her  a  search- 
ing look. 

"  Oh,  I  have  many  dear  friends,"  said  Marian, 

"  What ! "  said  Miles.  "  You  took  Mr.  Daskill  for  Geordie, 
when  you  met  him  at  the  door  ?  You  need  n't  regard  it  as  a 
poor  compliment,  either,  Mr.  Daskill.  Geordie  is  a  fine  fel- 
low if  he  is  a  pedler,  or  rather  was;  I  mustn't  forget  that 
he  's  a  travelling  agent  now." 

Just  then  somebody  sprang  up  the  doorstep.  The  bloom 
forsook  Marian's  cheeks.  But  immediately  a  hand,  having 
tried  the  latch,  began  to  pound  the  door. 

"  It  is  Frank,"  said  Mrs.  Fenway.  "  I  had  forgotten  that 
he  was  out." 

She  unlocked  the  door,  and  the  boy  came  bounding  in. 

"  Oh,  I  tell  ye  !  "  he  began,  unabashed  by  the  presence  of 
company,  for  he  was  not  diffident,  like  his  brother  Walter. 
"  Marian,  you  don't  know  what  's  happened  to  your  feller ! " 

"Her  feller/'^  said  his  mother,  with  a  threatening  look. 
"  Take  off  your  cap.     Don't  talk  about  her  feller  !" 

"  Will  Rayburn.  He  's  one  of  'em,  anyway  ;  I  don't  know 
how  many  more  she  's  got.  He  's  had  an  awful  accident ! 
He  was  coming  down  the  street,  and  I  guess  he  was  coming 
here." 


92  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

Mr.  Daskill  glanced  at  Marian.  Her  face  was  ashes  of 
roses.     He  was  too  shrewd  a  man  not  to  read  her  secret. 

"  Ye  see,"  said  Frank,  "  a  lot  of  boys  was  sliding  down 
Elm  Street,  and  one  sled  was  coming  round  the  corner  like 
lightning  on  runners,  when  that  silly  little  Syles  girl  started  to 
cross  over.  She  had  got  half-way,  when  she  heard  us  scream 
at  her.  That  frightened  her,  and  she  did  n't  know  which  way 
to  run  more  'n  a  goose,  but  she  was  backing  right  in  before 
the  sled,  and  she  'd  have  had  her  legs  broke,  but  Will  Ray- 
burn,  he  came  along  just  then  ;  he  just  made  one  jump  and 
a  half  to  the  middle  of  the  street,  and  he  'd  have  had  her  on 
the  sidewalk  in  a  jiffy,  but  she  was  scared  out  of  her  wits, 
and  dodged  away  from  him,  and  as  he  was  catching  her,  an- 
other sled  took  him,  —  a  bustin'  big  double-runner,  six  fellers 
on  it, — and  down  he  went  with  —  oh  my!  about  the  worst 
broken  ankle,  I  guess,  ever  you  saw." 

*'  How  long  ago  was  this  ?  "  said  Mr.  Fenway,  rising. 

"  About  half  an  hour.  I  went  along  with  the  boys  that 
took  him  home.  They  've  got  two  doctors  there,  setting  his 
bones,  now." 

Did  not  this  seem  like  a  fatality?  Or  was  it  a  special 
providence  >  I  dare  not  surmise  what  thoughts  of  self  may 
have  flashed  across  Marian's  mind,  but  her  mother's  face 
said  altogether  too  plainly  :  "  I  am  sorry  for  Will ;  we  shan't 
have  him  in  the  way,  though,  now,  I  guess,  till  we  know  what 
Mr.  Daskill's  intentions  are." 

Mr.  Fenway  was  the  only  one  who  expressed  much  regret. 
He  dismayed  his  wife,  after  her  white  lie,  by  saying :  "  We 
expected  the  young  man  here  this  evening.  Now,  I  think,  if 
you  '11  excuse  me,  Mr.  Daskill,  I  will  step  round  and  see  him. 
A  very  worthy  young  fellow,"  he  added,  with  a  dash  of  humor, 
"  if  he  is  Mr.  Carolus's  nephew." 

"  I  don't  own  him  !  I  don't  own  the  fellow ! "  cried  old 
Carolus.     "  Just  like  him  to  get  hurt  in  some  such  devil-may- 


MR.  Fenway's  account  of  himself.  93 

care,  foolish  way.  Why  did  n't  he  let  the  girl  alone,  and 
mind  his  own  business  ?  " 

"  He  would  have  been  a  worthy  nephew  of  his  uncle,  if  he 
had,"  said  Mr.  Fenway. 

"We  all  seem  to  be  interested  in  this  young  Raybum," 
obsen-ed  Mr.  Daskill.  (Another  glance  at  Marian,  whose 
expression  of  suffering  and  constraint  was  pitiful.)  "  He  is 
one  of  the  most  promising  young  men  in  my  store.  If  you  '11 
permit  me,  I  '11  walk  around  with  you,  Mr.  Fenway." 

"  Do.  Won't  you  come,  too,  Mr.  Carolus,  and  say  a  good 
word  to  your  sister  and  your  nephew  ?  Now  will  be  a  good 
time  to  make  up  with  'em." 

"  I  '11  be  d d  if  I  do  !  "  squeaked  old  Carolus.     "  They 

're  no  relations  of  mine.  I  've  disowned  'em.  I  '11  walk  with 
you  as  fur  as  my  house,  but  not  a  step  further,  not  a  step 
further.  Miles  Fenway  !  " 

Mr.  Daskill  took  rather  cold  leave  of  Marian,  the  mother 
thought.  The  boys  followed  their  elders  out.  Mrs.  Fenway 
and  her  daughter  were  left  alone. 


94  FARNELL  S   FOLLY. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

GEORDIE  COMES  HOME,  AND  SOMEBODY  WITH  HIM. 

As  soon  as  Lottie  saw  Mrs.  Wetherspun  fairly  out  of  the 
house,  she  released  Mr.  Wetherspun's  arm,  saying,  "  Oh,  mer- 
cy! there  comes  your  wife  in  full  chase  !  "  and  ran  gayly  home, 
leaving  that  estimable  couple  to  jog  slowly  after  her,  with  a 
hea\y  quarrel  on  their  hands. 

From  Brook  Street  she  turned  into  Mill  Street,  by  the 
lower  edge  of  the  pond.  The  night  was  overcast,  but  not 
dark,  the  moon  shedding  a  pallid  light.  The  street  was  de- 
serted, and  all  that  quarter  of  the  village  would  have  been  as 
silent  as  it  was  solitary,  but  for  the  occasional  cracking  and 
groaning  of  the  thick-ribbed  ice.  Then  there  was  the  low, 
constant,  plashy  roar  of  the  dam,  which  poured  its  whitened 
waters,  summer  and  winter,  within  sight  of  her  door. 

Beautiful  to  her,  the  solitude  of  that  lonely  walk  home. 
How  happy  she  was,  tripping  over  the  crackling  snow !  There's 
the  light  in  her  own  window,  at  sight  of  which  how  her 
glad  bosom  thrills  !  In  that  dim  corner  room  lies  her  precious 
baby  asleep.  How  good  God  was  to  give  her  such  a  treasure, 
and  such  a  home,  and  such  a  husband  !  In  the  simplicity  of  her 
heart,  Lottie  could  never  leave  her  home  and  her  babe  for  an 
hour,  and  find  them  really  there  on  her  return,  without  expe- 
riencing this  sweet  overflow  of  gratitude  and  love.  There  is 
the  light,  there  the  dear  chamber.  All 's  well !  Blessedness 
and  delight  have  not  passed  away  like  a  dream,  as  often,  in 
her  brief  absence,  she  half  fears  they  may  have  done. 

"O  Geordie,"  she  thinks,  "do  you  feel  as  I  do,  I  wonder, 


GEORDIE  COMES  HOME,  AND  SOMEBODY  WITH  HIM.     95 

when  you  come  home  and  see  the  light,  and  know  that  baby 
and  I  are  there,  waiting  for  you  ? " 

She  cannot  conceive  of  a  happier  home,  if  only  Geordie 
were  not  so  much  away.  Would  she  give  those  three  little 
rooms,  and  the  tranquil  happiness  they  contain,  for  all  the 
world  beside  ?  The  Misses  Wintergreen,  who  live  in  the 
other  part  of  the  house,  have  certainly  the  four  best  rooms ; 
but  they  are  not  cosey  rooms  like  hers.  How  could  they  be  ? 
The  occupants  have  no  baby  to  care  for  and  love,  unless  they 
borrow  hers;  they  have  no  Geordie  to  think  of  in  his  absence, 
to  look  for  and  wait  for  with  such  delicious  pangs  of  tenderness 
and  yearning,  and  to  welcome  with  such  joy  when  he  comes. 
How  can  they  live  as  they  do.'*  thinks  sympathetic  Lottie, 
and  pities  their  solitar}^  state  from  the  bottom  of  her  heart. 
Solitar}-  ?  Why,  what  are  you  thinking  of,  Lottie  ?  They 
are  three,  in  the  best  rooms  in  the  house  ;  and  you  are  mostly 
alone  with  your  baby.     Is  love,  then,  such  company  to  you  ? 

Her  father's  house  is  no  longer  like  home  to  her.  "  Live 
there  ? "  she  says ;  and  wonders  why  (since  she  loves  them  all) 
her  heart  leaps  up  so  lightly  when  she  gets  away  from  her 
mother's  influence. 

**  O  mother,  mother  !  how  can  you  be  so  worldly  }  I  know 
what  you  were  thinking,  when  Mr.  Daskill  spoke  of  fitting  up 
the  Folly.  Ah,  Marian  !  he  is  n't  the  man  to  make  you  happy. 
But  you  will  marr)'  him  if  he  asks  you  to,  I  see  plainly 
enough." 

And  it  is  not  without  a  pang  that  Lottie  remembers  how 
her  pedler  boy  used  to  be  received  at  the  house,  and  con- 
trasts her  mother's  scornful  treatment  of  him  with  her  sim- 
pering deference  to  this  pretentious  stranger. 

But  hark!  Is  that  a  sleigh  coming?  The  merry  bells 
sound  like  Geordie's.  "Go  lang!"says  a  cherry  voice,  fol- 
lowed by  the  familiar  crack  of  a  whip  and  a  merrier  jingling 
of  the  bells, — joyful  sounds  to  Lottie,  sounds  for  which  she 


96 


FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 


has  listened  and  waited  many  a  pallid  winter  night,  and  won- 
dered, wondered  if  she  would  ever  hear  them  again. 

She  steps  inside  the  little  gate,  the  team  turns  up  to  the 
big  one.  Then  she  is  aware  that  Geordie  is  not  alone.  He 
is  speaking  in  low  tones  to  some  person  at  his  side,  —  a 
woman !  at  sight  of  whom,  with  sudden  faintness,  she  recalls 
Bob  Syles's  slanderous  story.  Geordie  drives  into  the  yard, 
calls  out  "  Whoa ! "  at  the  side  door,  throws  off  the  buffalo 
robe  that  covers  him  and  his  companion,  rises,  like  a  buffalo 
himself,  in  his  huge,  shaggy  overcoat,  and  lifts  her  carefully 
to  the  ground. 

Lottie  looks  on  in  amazement.  No,  she  is  not  jealous ; 
she  believes  in  Geordie.  She  runs  in  through  the  front  way, 
unlocks  the  side  door,  and  meets  him  bringing  in  a  strange 
woman  clad  in  black,  with  black  hair,  which  strangely  sets  off 
a  white  face,  and  eyes  that  glow  for  an  instant  like  a  cat's,  as 
they  advance  from  the  darkness  into  the  light  of  the  little 
kitchen.  Geordie  springs  forward,  and  hugs  Lottie  in  his 
huge  buffalo  arms. 

"  My  wife,"  he  then  says,  introducing  her.  "Lottie,  this  is 
Mrs.  Chilgrove." 

Mrs.  Chilgrove  gives  a  hand  of  ice,  and  says  with  slow 
and  nervous  lips,  "I  am  happy  to  meet  you,"  without  a  trace 
of  emotion  either  in  her  face,  or  in  her  low,  compressed  tones 
of  voice. 

"  Sit  down,"  says  Lottie,  mar^'elling  who  she  can  be,  and 
almost  fearing  the  death-like  countenance  in  its  heavy  pall  of 
hair.     "  You  must  be  very  cold." 

She  places  a  chair  for  her  by  the  stove,  and  opens  the 
damper  and  puts  in  wood,  at  which  the  strange  woman  re- 
marks, in  the  same  low  voice,  without  emotion,  "  Don't  trouble 
yourself  :  I  am  not  very  cold." 

"We've  had  supper,"  says  Geordie.  "How's  baby?  I 
must  get  a  peep  at  her,  'fore  I  take  care  of  the  team." 


GEORDIE  COMES  HOME,  AND  SOMEBODY  WITH  HIM.     97 

Lottie  follows  him  into  the  chamber. 

"Who  is  she  ?  "  she  whispers,  behind  the  half-closed  door. 

"  Hanged  if  I  know  !  "  says  Geordie,  with  a  droll  grimace. 

"How  long  has  she  been  with  you? " 

"  About  twenty-six  hours  and  a  quarter,  now,  as  near  as  I 
can  reckon.  It 's  the  funniest  scrape  ever  I  got  into  !  She 
says  her  name  is  Chilgrove,  but  I  've  named  her  '  my  Folly,' 
in  competition  \vith  Famell.     Can  we  keep  her  over  night  ?  " 

"  We  can't  turn  her  out-doors.  There 's  the  sofa-bed. 
But  do  tell  me  !  How  did  you  fall  in  with  her }  for  land's 
sake!" 

"  It 's  a  long  stor}-.  I  '11  tell  you  all  about  it,  after  I  've  put 
the  ponies  up." 

Geordie  threw  the  door  open  for  more  light,  and  bent  over 
the  babe  in  its  crib.  There  was  a  noise  in  the  kitchen,  and 
Lottie  hastened  to  meet  the  Wintergreen  sisters,  who,  look- 
ing in  from  the  other  part  of  the  house  and  finding  a  strange 
woman  seated  by  their  neighbor's  stove,  had  recoiled  upon 
each  other,  and  were  now  huddled,  like  three  elderly  Graces, 
in  the  doorway.  As  they  all  wore  steel-bowed  spectacles,  the 
six  oval  glasses  of  which  glittered  in  the  lamplight,  and  each 
had  three  short  auburn  ringlets  on  each  side  of  her  face,  and 
all  looked  and  dressed  alike,  they  must  have  formed  a  some- 
what astonishing  group  to  the  mind  of  Mrs.  Chilgrove,  as 
they  stood  courtesying  and  backing  away  from  her,  and 
oh-ing  and  ah-ing  apologetically. 

"  Excuse  ! "  said  the  foremost. 

"  Beg  the  lady's  pardon  !  "  said  the  second. 

"  We  were  not  aware  ! "  said  the  third. 

"  Mrs.  Chilgrove,  the  Miss  Wintergreens,"  said  Lottie. 

Mrs.  Chilgrove  bowed  slightly  in  her  black  bonnet ;  Avhile 
the  three  pairs  of  spectacles  and  the  six  clusters  of  ringlets 
moved  up  and  down  vivaciously. 

"  Ah,  Miss  Abby  !  how  d  'e  do  ?  "  cried  Geordie,  coming  in. 
7 


98  farnell's  folly. 

"Why,  Lizy  Ann!  —  and  there's  Maria,  handsomer  than 
ever  !     1  'd  kiss  every  one  of  ye,  if  I  knew  where  to  begin." 

"Nonsense  !  "  simpered  Miss  Abby. 

"  What  talk  !  "  simpered  Lizy  Ann. 

"  No  danger !  "  simpered  Maria. 

"Not  in  my  wife's  presence,  —  no,  no!"  said  Geordie. 
"Don't  go." 

"Yes,  we  must,"  said  ISIiss  Abby. 

"  We  only  just  looked  in,"  said  Lizy  Ann. 

"To  tell  Lottie  about  baby,"  said  Maria. 

Lottie  hoped  baby  had  not  given  them  any  trouble  while 
she  was  out. 

"Oh,  no,  indeed!"  said  Miss  Abby. 

"  Slept  just  like  a  mouse,"  said  Lizy  Ann. 

"Never  made  the  least  mite  of  noise  !  "  said  Maria. 

Lottie  thanked  them,  and  the  three  nodding  heads,  with 
their  three  pairs  of  glasses  and  eighteen  short  auburn  ring- 
lets, vanished. 

Geordie  then  went  to  stable  his  horses,  and  Lottie  was  left 
alone  with  the  strange  woman. 

"  You'd  better  lay  off  your  things,"  she  said. 

"  As  you  please,"  the  woman  replied ;  and  slowly  undoing 
the  strings  of  her  black  bonnet  she  handed  it  to  Lottie. 

"  You  don't  look  well :  let  me  make  you  a  cup  of  tea." 

"  Thank  you  ;  I  don't  need  anything.     I  am  very  well." 

Then  followed  a  long  silence,  embarrassing  to  poor  Lottie, 
who  meant  to  be  hospitable,  but  could  not,  somehow,  make 
talk  with  this  cold,  impassive  creature  sitting  by  her  stove. 

"  About  thirty  years  old  ;  pretty.?  no  —  yes, — if  she  wasn't 
so  unearthly  pale.  She  has  had  some  great  suffering,  —  lost 
a  husband  or  a  child,  perhaps,"  thought  Lottie,  with  a  gush 
of  sympathy.  "  I  '11  be  very  kind  to  her,  though  I  can't  feel 
easy  with  her  in  the  house.  Why  can't  I>"  She  was  glad 
when  Geordie  came  in. 


GEORDIE  COMES  HOME,  AND  SOMEBODY  WITH  HIM.     99 

Geordie  was  not  what  you  would  have  called  handsome. 
His  face  was  too  red,  his  nose  too  prominent,  his  forehead 
too  wrinkled  (not  with  care,  but  from  a  droll  habit  he  had  of 
lifting  his  brows  as  he  talked  to  you),  and  the  humorous  lines 
about  his  mouth  were  quite  too  deeply  cut,  enclosing  it  in  a 
sort  of  parenthesis.  His  manners  were  a  trifle  uncouth,  and 
he  flavored  his  speech  a  little  too  strongly  with  the  country 
vernacular,  not  from  ignorance,  but  from  a  love  of  fun.  Mrs. 
Chilgrove  watched  him  as  he  greeted  Lottie  again,  and  ob- 
serv-ed  that  he  saw  in  her  all  beauty  and  goodness,  and  that 
she  found  nothing  but  comfort  in  his  bleak,  red  face. 

"Biddies  lay  any  yet .?"  he  asked,  throwing  off  his  buffalo 
coat,  and  showing  that  he  was  not  such  a  huge  fellow,  after 
all. 

"  The  pullets  are  beginning  to  lay  a  little.  I  've  saved  up 
about  three  dozen  eggs  expressly  for  you." 

"Just  like  you,"  said  Geordie,  silting  down  and  putting  his 
feet  up  on  the  stove-hearth.  "  Why  don't  you  eat  'em  your- 
self? My  way  is  to  eat  right  at  the  hens'  heels  ;  then  you 
have  your  eggs  fresh.  No  egg  is  fit  for  the  table  after  it 's 
nine  days  old :  it  grows  tough  next  to  the  shell,  and  the 
yelk  settles  on  one  side  long  'fore  it 's  musty;  and  it's  musty 
long  'fore  you  can  convince  a  city  landlord  or  boarding-house 
keeper  that  it  ain't  a  fresh-laid  egg.  Pullets  have  done  nobly 
though.  Weather  has  been  cold  enough  to  freeze  the  rooster's 
crow." 

"  Comb,  you  mean." 

'•  No ;  the  comb  is  easy  enough  to  freeze,  but  it  takes  a 
cracking  cold  night  to  freeze  the  crow.  Did  n't  you  ever  hear 
of  the  rooster  that  went  to  crow  one  morning  when  the  ther- 
mometer was  about  forty  degrees  below  zebray  ?  " 

"  Zebray  !  "  laughed  Lottie,  uneasily,  afraid  Mrs.  Chilgrove 
might  think  her  Geordie  did  n't  know  any  better. 

"  Below  Nero,  then,"  said  Geordie.    "  As  fast  as  he  crowed, 


100  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

liis  crow,  without  making  any  noise,  just  froze  ;  and  liie  old 
farmer,  going  out  and  seeing  something  under  the  roost  kin' 
o'  white  and  transparent,  curi's-looking,  shaped  a  little  like 
a  ram's  horn,  but  tapering  at  both  ends,  and  light  as  ary 
feather,  picked  it  up  and  carried  it  into  the  house  and  laid 
it  down  on  the  hearth,  when,  I  declare,  if  the  plaguy  thing 
did  n't  thaw  all  at  once  and  go  off  in  as  clear  a  Oo — oo — oo!" 
—  Geordie  crowed  by  way  of  illustration  — "as  ever  trumpeted 
from  a  hen-roost." 

"  Geordie,  you  '11  kill  me  with  your  nonsense  !  " 

"  Stop  my  mouth,  then.     Any  apples  ?  " 

"  I  put  a  couple  in  my  pocket  up  at  the  house  to-night :  I 
thought  of  you." 

"  Just  like  you.  Have  one,  Mrs.  Chilgrove  ?  Give  her  a 
plate,  Lottie." 

Mrs.  Chilgrove  accepted  the  apple  and  the  plate  in  a  Ian. 
guid  way,  but  did  not  eat. 

Geordie  bit,  and  rattled  on  just  the  same.  "How  are  they 
all  up  at  the  house  ?  Nance  happy  ?  Never  gets  cuffed  nor 
nothing,  nowadays,  I  suppose."  Then  to  Mrs.  Chilgrove  : 
"  Nance  is  the  little  darky  I  told  you  about,  the  one  I  picked 
up  down  on  the  Ohio.  The  mother  had  run  away  with  her 
from  Kentucky ;  the  slave-hunters  had  ketched  her  and  got 
her  into  a  boat  on  the  river,  when  she  jumped  overboard  to 
get  away  from  'em.  And  she  did  get  away,  I  reckon !  She 
flung  off  her  black  skin  and  other  fixings,  and  went  where 
fugitive  slave  laws  don't  operate,  as  far  as  I  can  learn,  and 
kidnappers  don't  like  to  get  over  the  border.  They  got  her 
body,  but  they  didn't  get  her,  —  not  very  much.  They  said 
they  'd  give  me  ten  dollars  if  I M  look  as  I  was  driving  along, 
and  find  where  she  'd  hid  her  young  one.  I  said  I  'd  look  ; 
and  it  was  n't  an  hour  after  that  when,  as  I  was  passing  a  piece 
of  woods,  thinking  what  a  nice  Christian  land  we  live  in, 
I  found  the  gal,  —  a  little  mite  of  a  tot  she  was  then,  not 


GEORDIE  COMES  HOME,  AND  SOMEBODY  WITH  HIM.    IO[ 

taller  'n  a  coffee-pot ;  and  black !  ace  of  spades  is  nowhere. 
She  was  peeking  over  a  log,  side  of  the  road,  looking  for  her 
mammy,  poor  thing !  I  thought  't  was  some  wild  animal  till 
she  showed  the  whites  of  her  eyes.  '  Here  's  a  chance  to 
earn  my  ten  dollars,'  think  says  I.  '  Oh,  ain't  it  a  Christian 
country!'  think  says  I.  But  I'm  a  foolish  sort  of  fellow 
about  some  things ;  and,  'stead  of  selling  out  the  little  critter 
for  thirty  pieces  of  silver,  more  or  less,  hanged  if  I  didn't 
clap  her  into  my  pedler's  wagon  and  kiver  her  up.  Then 
when  the  kidnappers  come  up  with  me,  I  stopped  and  told 
'em  they  ought  to  give  me  a  dollar,  just  for  the  trouble  I  'd 
had  looking  for  the  gal ;  then  I  stumped  one  of  them  to  trade 
horses,  and  when  they  disrespectfully  declined  my  proposals, 
I  axed  'em  if  there  was  anything  in  my  wagon  they  wanted, 
and  invited  'em  to  look  at  my  assortment,  —  dry  goods, 
brushes  and  combs,  steel  traps,  baskets,  dinner  horns,  pocket 
knives,  fancy  articles  of  all  sorts.  But  they  allowed  there 
was  n't  anything  in  my  wagon  they  wanted,  —  at  which  I  was 
rather  tickled  than  otherwise,  I  guess.  So  they  let  me  drive 
on  ;  for  I  'd  been  so  free  and  inviting  urging  them  to  look  at 
my  wares,  they  never  'spected  I  had  a  little  woolly  pate 
tucked  in  among  the  tinware  and  paper  rags.  All  the  while 
I  was  awfully  afraid  the  little  thing  would  squeal :  she  'd  have 
spoiled  my  fun  if  she  had.  'T  would  have  been  a  peniten- 
tiary job  for  me.  But  I  got  her  off,  and  got  her  safe  home. 
She  was  the  comicalist  little  cub  !  My  mother  set  her  life  by 
her,  and  when  she  died,  I  made  a  present  of  her  to  my  wife's 
mother,  to  conciliate  her  when  I  was  courting." 

The  frozen  soul  of  the  white-faced  woman  seemed  to  have 
thawed  a  little. 

"You  must  think  your  husband  brings  home  strange 
acquaintances,"  she  said. 

"  Geordie  can  never  turn  away  from  a  person  in  distress," 
replied  Lottie. 


I02  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

"He  has  been  very  kind  to  me,"  said  the  woman,  still 
without  a  tremor  of  feeling  in  voice  or  feature.  "  At  least, 
he  meant  it  for  kindness." 

"You  must  have  suffered  dreadfully,"  said  Mrs.  Lorkins. 

The  stranger  regarded  her  with  steady  intensity  of  expres- 
sion, and  answered  in  a  close,  rigid  tone  of  voice  :  — 

"  I  have  had  a  terrible  experience.  Do  not  ask  me  what. 
You  think  well  of  mankind ;  you  are  both  good,  and  you  judge 
other  men  and  women  by  yourselves.  I  would  not  disturb 
your  faith  by  having  you  know  what  I  have  been  through." 

As  she  spoke,  Misery  herself  seemed  to  be  sitting  there  in 
black  robes  by  the  fire.  Lottie,  with  a  woman's  sympathy 
and  curiosity,  would  have  pursued  the  conversation ;  but 
Geoidie  made  haste  to  change  the  topic. 

"  All  well  up  't  the  house,  did  you  say  ?  Marian  got  any 
more  beaux  ? " 

"  I  guess  so  ;  there  was  a  new  one  there  to-night  that  moth- 
er was  awfully  sweet  on,  —  rich  and  stylish,  just  the  sort  to 
tickle  her  fancy.  He  acts  as  though  he  was  sweet  on  Marian. 
And,  oh,  dear  Geordie !  she  /las  a  pretty  face.  I  could  n't 
help  thinking  as  I  sat  looking  at  her  to-night,  I  did  n't  blame 
the  men  for  falling  in  love  with  her." 

"I  came  within  one  of  falling  in  love  with  her  once,"  said 
Geordie.     "  I  got  as  far  as  her  sister.     Who  is  the  snipe  ?  " 

"The  man  from  Buffalo,  who  has  taken  charge  of  Ward 
Farnell's  business." 

"  What !  Daskill ! "  cried  Geordie.  "  Smashing,  stylish  fel- 
low !  If  he  takes  a  notion  to  Marian,  I  'm  afraid  several  other 
small  fry  —  Will  Rayburn  among  'em  —  will  find  their  cakes 
rather  doughy.  Beg  your  pardon,  ma'am  !  "  Geordie  sprang, 
and  caught  the  plate,  which  was  slipping  from  the  pale  lady's 
lap.  "You  must  be  very  tired.  Maybe" —  turning  to  Lot- 
tie —  "  she  would  like  to  go  to  bed." 

"  I  will  get  the  sofa  ready  now,"  said  Mrs.  Lorkins. 


GEORDIE  COMES  HOME,  AND  SOMEBODY  WITH  HIM.   I03 

Geordle^vent^vith  her  into  the  little  parlor  As  they  dis- 
appeared, she  in  black  tightened  the  interlocked  fingers  of  her 
th^  .hit;  hands,  straining  the  palms  outward  and  downward 
upon  her  lap,  in  a  sort  of  spasm,  at  the  same  t.me  rolhng  her 
eyes  upward  with  a  look  of  pain  and  wild  pass.on  which 
those  who  had  only  beheld  her  tame  and  cold  might  have 
been  amazed  to  see.  .        ,     , 

.  Has  n-t  she  brought  any  clothes  with  her?  "  Lottie  asked 
her  husband,  as  they  pulled  out  the  sofa-bed,  and  arranged  the 


cushions 


"Nar\' rag  but  what  she's  got  on."  , 

"It's'the  strangest  thing  I   ever  heard  of!      I  can  ^pve  her 
a  night-go^^^l ;   but  how  happens  it  a  lady  like  her— 

Geor  Jie  interrupted  her.     "  I  'H  tell  you  somethmg  more 
astonishing  than  that  when  we  get  her  off  to  bed 

Accordinglv,  after  the  strange  visitor  had  retired,  Geordie 
sat  down  with  Lottie  by  the  stove,  and  told  her  the  ston- 

"You  see,  last  night,  as  I  was  driving  along,  just  after  d.rk, 
the  ponies  suddenly  shied,  and  came  pretty  nigh  spiUmg  me 
into  a  cmlly.  I  held  'em  in,  and  looked  down  on  t  other  side, 
and  there  lying  flat  by  the  track,  was  the  figure  of  a  woman, 
et  Hack  'on'the  snow,Ld  hanged  if  I  did  n't  think  fust  she 
was  dead!  I  got  out  and  took  hold  of  her,  and  spoke  to  her, 
when  she  gave  a  sort  of  a  moan,  and  sat  up. 

"  '  What  do  you  want  with  me  ? '  says  she,  as  if  I  had  been 
interfering  with  her  rights.  ^ti^mcr' 

"'I  want  to  clear  the  track  for  my  team,  for  one  thing, 
says  I.     'Are  you  sick  ? ' 

"'No,'  says  she,  'nor  drunk,  nor  out  of  my  senses  ;  so  >ou 
can  go  on  and  leave  me,  as  soon  as  you  please.' 
" '  But  you  '11  freeze  to  death  ! '  says  I. 
"'That,'  savs  she,  'is  nobody's  affair  but  my  own.' 
" '  Beg  your'  pardon,  ma'am,'  says  I ;  '  but  if  you  scare  my 
team  and  upset  my  sleigh,  and  I  get  a  broken  neck,  it  s  my 


I04  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

business,  rayther,  t'  say  nothing  about  my  wife.  Besides,* 
says  I,  '  if  I  see  a  fellow-critter  in  a  position  where  they  're 
like  to  die,  and  I  might  help  'em,  but  go  off  and  let  'em  die, 
seems  to  me  I  'm  kind  o'  responsible.' 

"'Are  you  your  brother's  keeper  ? '  says  she,  in  a  voice  as 
cold  and  clear  as  ice. 

"'Yes,  and  my  sister's,  too,'  says  I,  'when  I  see  they  need 
my  help.' 

"  She  was  standing  on  her  feet  by  this  time,  and  I  could 
see  that  she  was  a  lady,  though  a  strange  and  desperate  one. 

"  '  What  will  you  do  about  it  ? '  says  she,  as  if  't  had  been 
a  matter  of  perfect  indifference  to  her. 

" '  I  '11  take  you  to  some  house,'  says  I. 

"  '  No  house  wants  me,'  says  she. 

"  I  asked  where  her  home  and  friends  were. 

" '  I  've  no  more  home  or  friends,'  says  she,  '  than  if  I  'd 
just  dropped  from  another  sphere.' 

"There  was  such  a  mystery  about  her,  and  she  faced  me 
with  such  a  look,  she  fairly  made  my  blood  curdle.  I  never 
was  in  such  a  fix ! 

"'You  'd  better  leave  me,'  says  she  ;  'for  if  you  take  me 
up,  you  may  not  find  it  easy  to  put  me  down  ;  and  you  may 
conclude  you  might  better  have  been  responsible  for  my  death 
than  for  my  life.' 

"  Gracious !  I  saw  that  plain  enough.  But  what  could  a 
fellow  do?" 

"Nothing,  as  I  see,"  replied  Lottie,  "but  just  what  you 
did.     You  are  so  good,  Geordie  !  " 

"  I  don't  know  as  to  that.  But  I  took  her  into  my  sleigh, 
and  felt  from  that  minute  that  I  was  in  a  scrape.  Here  I 
was,  a  married  man,  with  a  superfluous  woman  on  my  hands, 
that  I  could  n't  see  my  way  clear  ever  to  get  rid  of;  for,  as 
to  shoving  her  into  some  poorhouse,  that  would  n't  be  exactly 
my  way  of  doing  things,  you  know." 


GEORDIE  COMES  HOME,  AND  SOMEBODY  WITH  HIM.   IO5 

"  No,  it  would  n't ;  bless  you,  Geordie  !  " 

"  Well,  we  stopped  at  the  next  tavern,  where  I  always  put 
up,  if  I  can ;  and  who  should  I  meet  there  but  that  scamp  of 
a  horse-jockey.  Bob  Syles !  I  suppose  my  stopping  there 
with  a  woman  will  be  blarted  all  over  town  when  he  comes." 

"  He  has  come  and  blarted  already.  Mother  told  me  the 
scandal  this  evening,  and  I  did  n't  believe  a  word  of  it. 
Though  when  I  saw  you  come  with  a  woman,  I  own  I  felt  a 
little  queer,  only  for  a  minute.  It  was  all  over  as  soon  as 
I  saw  your  face.  Has  n't  she  told  you  anything  about 
herself  >  " 

"  We  have  talked  a  good  deal  ;  but  not  a  bit  of  her  history 
have  I  got  from  her.  If  she  was  a  young  girl,  I  might  guess 
what  the  matter  was.  But  she  's  a  woman  of  experience,  and 
it  's  no  ordinary  case  of  deception  and  desertion,  I  'm  cer- 
tain." 

"  But  what  are  we  to  do  with  her,  now  we  've  got  her  here  ?" 

"That's  what's  been  bothering  my  wits!  I  remember 
how  I  chuckled  over  little  black  Nance  when  I  carried  her 
off,  for  I  knew  what  I  could  do  with  her.  But  I  have  n't 
chuckled  over  this  woman,  not  much  !  " 

So  they  conversed,  in  low  tones ;  and  all  the  while  the 
strange  guest  in  the  little  parlor  lay  with  cold  hands  folded 
under  her  cold,  white  face,  in  the  light  of  the  lamp  left  burn- 
ing by  her  bed,  —  not  asleep,  but  staring  upward  at  vacancy 
with  those  intense,  greenish-brown  eyes  of  hers,  hearkening  to 
the  reverberating  ice,  and  thinking  thoughts  which  Lottie, 
with  her  awakened  woman's  curiosity,  would  have  paid  a 
price  to  read. 


io6  farnell's  folly. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

WHAT    HAPPENED   TO   WILL    RAYBURN. 

More  than  once  that  evening  Will  Rayburn  had  walked 
past  the  Fenway  house  and  seen  visitors  go  in.  He  did  not 
much  care  for  Lottie  or  the  Wetherspuns.  He  cared  more  for 
his  disagreeable  old  uncle,  Carolus,  whom  he  always  hated 
to  meet.  Then,  once  more  approaching  the  house,  resolved 
to  enter  in  spite  of  all  impediments  to  his  wooing,  he  encoun- 
tered Mr.  Daskill  mounting  the  steps  just  before  him. 

Village  gossip  travels  fast,  and  Will  had  heard  of  Marian's 
adventure  with  Adolphus  and  his  dog  that  afternoon.  He 
had  laughed  at  it.  He  did  not  laugh  now.  Stung  with  a 
sense  of  something  wrong,  he  once  more  walked  by.  He 
cursed  his  own  weakness  for  doing  so ;  yet  what  could  he 
have  gained  by  going  in  ?  If  he  had  entered,  the  new  auto- 
crat of  the  store  and  the  humble  clerk  must  have  found  them- 
selves uncomfortably  in  each  other's  way. 

The  curtains  were  up,  and  passing  the  house  again,  he 
could  see  Mr.  Daskill  sitting  at  his  ease,  the  centre  of  the 
little  circle,  and  Marian  blushing  and  smiling  at  something 
he  was  saying.  It  was  not  a  soothing  sight.  He  had  not 
liked  the  man  of  ostentatious  and  patronizing  manners  any 
too  well.     He  felt  that  he  hated  him  now. 

"  Oh  !  but  this  is  base  in  me  ! "  he  said  as  he  turned  himself 
away,  somewhat  as  he  would  have  taken  an  insane  man  in 
charge.  "  Have  I  no  confidence  in  the  girl  I  love  ?  It  is  so 
natural  for  her  to  be  pleased  with  gentlemen's  attentions !  I 
must  make  up  my  mind  to  that." 

He  must  do  something,  however,  to  take  up  the  time  and 


WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  WILL  RAYBURN.      10/ 

fight  his  impatience.  There  were  three  or  four  meeting- 
houses in  the  place,  and  he  was  approaching  one  of  them,  — 
a  plain,  white-painted  structure,  —  where  a  noted  preacher 
was  at  that  time  holding  forth.  He  saw  the  dimly  lighted 
windows,  and  heard  the  hollow  echoes  from  within.  It  was 
not  the  place  of  worship  which  Marian  frequented,  but  it  re- 
minded him  of  what  she  had  said  of  his  lack  of  religious 
faith,  and,  curiously  attracted,  he  turned  up  to  the  door. 

It  w-as  long  since  he  had  been  at  church,  finding  more  in 
his  books  at  home,  or  in  the  woods  and  fields,  to  feed  the 
hungering  soul,  than  fell  from  any  pulpit  in  Waybrook. 
Perhaps  he  was  wrong ;  there  must  be  something  in  religion 
which  he  had  never  yet  deeply  felt.  Why  not  hear  again  the 
old  arguments  and  exhortations,  and  open  his  heart,  as  in  his 
childhood,  with  the  devout  desire  to  know  and  live  the 
truth?     He  went  in. 

The  house  was  mistily  lighted,  a  dim  haze  filling  the  air 
above  the  heads  of  the  congregration,  and  making  little  halos 
around  the  lamps.  Doors  and  windows,  closed  to  keep  out 
the  cold,  kept  in  the  poisonous  atmosphere.  The  place  was 
hot,  and  steaming  pores  added  their  cloud  to  that  of  ex- 
haling breaths.  To  a  worldling  like  Will,  it  occurred  that  those 
who  showed  such  abundant  zeal  for  the  salvation  of  the  soul 
would  have  done  well  to  give  also  a  little  thought  to  the 
welfare  of  the  body. 

The  preacher,  a  robustious,  deep-chested  revivalist,  was 
flushed  and  sweat}'^,  with  the  earnestness  of  his  work.  He 
walked  to  and  fro  in  the  pulpit,  and  shouted  to  the  rafters  and 
remotest  corners  ;  he  leaned  over,  and  talked  in  low,  im- 
pressive tones  to  the  anxious  souls  on  the  seat  before  him  ; 
he  pounded  the  desk,  as  if  to  awaken  the  sleeping  pews  ;  he 
shook  his  warning  forefinger  at  the  unrepentant  sinner,  whom 
he  knew  or  guessed.  Then,  pausing,  he  would  draw  a  long 
breath,  fix  his  features  with  a  peculiarly  grim  expression,  and 


io8  farnell's  folly. 

strip  up  his  sleeves,  as  if,  grown  impatient  of  words,  he  were 
about  to  try  pugilistic  methods  with  the  enemy  of  souls. 

Many  of  his  hearers  sat  quietly  in  the  square-cornered, 
straight-backed  pews.  Others  were  kneeling,  as  if  in  prayer. 
An  old  woman,  whom  Will  knew,  was  standing  by  one  of  the 
supports  of  the  gallery,  wringing  her  hands  and  shouting, 
"Jesus!  O  Jesus,  come!"  in  the  pauses  of  the  exhortation, 
with  tears  running  down  her  face  ;  while  a  chorus  of  shouts 
and  groans  went  up  all  over  the  house. 

One  thing  struck  young  Rayburn  :  there  could  be  no  doubt 
whatever  about  the  terrible  sincerity  of  the  preacher  and  of 
many  of  these  people,  think  as  one  might  of  their  want  of  cul- 
ture and  good  taste.  He  sat  down  in  a  pew  near  the  door, 
perfectly  calm,  and  determined,  if  possible,  to  know  the  mean- 
ing of  what  he  saw. 

Some  young  fellows  around  the  stove  behind  him  were 
munching  peanuts,  and  making  sport  of  the  meeting.  One  of 
the  elders  went  to  reprove  them  for  their  misconduct,  and 
talk  with  them  about  their  souls;  and  they  pelted  him  with 
peanut-shells  as  soon  as  his  back  was  turned.  Will  there- 
upon gave  them  a  stern  and  indignant  look. 

"If  you  can't  sit  still  and  behave  yourselves,"  said  he,  "  you 
had  better  go  home.  This  is  the  first  time  I  have  been  here, 
and  I  want  to  hear  something  besides  your  tittering." 

Will  Rayburn  was  well  known  to  them,  and  they  felt  his 
reproof  all  the  more  because  he  was  not  one  of  the  converted. 

"We  are  only  just  having  a  little  fun,"  they  said. 

"Isn't  it  rather  foolish,"  Will  replied,  "to  make  fun  of 
what  is  so  serious  a  matter  to  others  }  I  see  nothing  ridicu- 
lous in  it." 

There  was  a  hush  among  the  peanut-eaters,  and  the  preacher 
went  on. 

"  What  will  a  man  do  to  save  his  property,  to  save  his 
house  ?     O  my  friend,  your  house  is  a-fire  1    It  is  n't  insured! 


WHAT    HAPPENED    TO    WILL    KAYBURN.  IO9 

You  might  have  got  it  insured  this  very  day,  but  you  put  it  off, 
put  it  off,  and  now  it  is  burning  up.  See  !  the  flames  are 
already  bursting  out  of  the  roof !  See  their  fiery  tongues 
licking,  licking  up  your  hard-earned  wealth,  devouring  your 
precious  home  !  O  my  friend,  what  do  you  do  when  I  shout 
to  you  such  an  alarm  as  that  ?  Do  you  sit  with  your  hands 
folded,  and  your  eyes  winking  sleepily  at  the  terrible  fact? 
Oh,  no !  you  are  wide  awake  enough  then  !  Maybe  you  have 
a  child  in  the  house,  —  a  dimpled,  rosy-cheeked,  golden-haired 
girl,  —  sleeping  in  the  very  room  the  fire  is  just  bursting  into. 
O  my  friend,  what  are  your  feelings  as  you  run  —  run  —  run, 
—  oh,  that  you  had  wings,  so  that  you  might  fly!  —  to  snatch 
your  darling  from  the  flames,  and  save  that  priceless  life, 
even  if  the  house  must  perish?  " 

Having  made  the  scene  of  the  burning  house  and  rescued 
child  frightfully  real  to  his  audience,  the  preacher  lowered  his 
voice,  and  said  with  thrilling  solemnity  :  — 

"What  is  a  house  compared  with  a  human  soul  ?  the  de- 
struction of  a  little  property,  to  the  loss  of  salvation  now  held 
out  to  you,  waiting  for  you,  imploring  you  to  take  the  cup 
and  drink  ?  What  is  the  agony  of  a  moment,  suppose  you 
are  yourself  burnt  in  the  burning  dwelling,  —  the  short-lived 
agony  of  a  few  seconds,  to  the  endless  —  endless  —  endless 
torment  in  eternal  fire  ?  " 

As  he  paused,  the  people  groaned  and  shouted :  "  O  Lord, 
save  us  !  "  "  Have  mercy  on  our  souls  !  "  "  Amen  !  amen  ! 
amen  ! " 

Thereupon  one  of  the  fun-making  youngsters  by  the  stove 
rose  to  his  feet,  looking  pale  as  his  shirt-collar,  dropped  a 
handful  of  peanut-shells  he  had  been  keeping  to  throw  at  his 
companions,  stalked  solemnly  down  the  aisle,  and  took  his 
place  on  the  seat  with  the  anxious. 

"Another  soul  saved,  thanks  be  to  God!"  shouted  the 
preacher.     "  I  see  the  gate  of  heaven  open  to  let  him  in  ! 


no  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

Oh !  what  glory  inside  !  O  my  friends,  look  up,  look  up 
there  !  "  He  pointed  over  the  gallery  with  one  hand,  holding 
the  other  raised,  as  if  to  shield  his  eyes  from  dazzling  light. 
"  Do  you  see  the  blessed  angels  in  their  white  raiment  ? " 
Many  actually  turned  their  heads  to  gaze.  "  Do  you  hear 
them  playing  on  golden  harps,  and  singing  hallelujahs  over 
another  soul  saved  ?  But  the  gate  "will  soon  be  closed  !  Who 
else  .-*  who  else  ?  What  perishing  sinner  will  make  haste  to 
enter  in,  before  he  is  shut  out  forever?  " 

More  peanut-shells  were  dropped,  and  two  other  young 
fellows  went  together  down  the  aisle  to  the  anxious  seat. 
Then  the  congregation  broke  forth  in  a  hymn  of  praise  and 
thanksgiving,  intoned  overmuch  through  the  nose,  and  dragged 
sadly  out  of  time  by  voices  holding  too  lovingly  by  certain 
precious  words,  but  full  of  the  emotions  of  an  excited  and 
jubilant  congregation. 

The  preacher  had  sat  down.  And  now,  the  singing  ended, 
old  and  new  converts  went  around,  singling  out  the  unrepent- 
ant, and  talking  to  them,  sometimes  with  eloquence,  often 
with  tears,  about  their  souls.  One  came  to  William;  but  soon 
found  that,  instead  of  having  all  the  talk  on  his  side,  he  be- 
came the  victim  of  some  baffling  Socratic  questions,  which 
exposed  his  ignorance,  and  left  the  sincerity  of  his  zeal  open 
to  suspicion. 

"  Don't  think  there  ain't  nothing  in  religion,"  said  the  man 
at  length,  "because  I  don't  seem  to  give  you  very  satisfactory 
answers." 

"  I  think  there  is  something  in  it,"  William  replied ;  "  but  it 
is  something  you  know  nothing  more  about  than  a  ship  knows 
of  the  depths  of  the  sea.     You  are  only  tossed  a  little," 

"  I  thank  God  that  I  am  tossed,"  said  the  man.  "  I  feel 
sure  our  Great  Pilot  will  bring  me  into  port." 

The  answer,  coming  from  the  man's  heart,  struck  William. 
They  parted ;  and  he  now  turned  to  listen  to  the  woman  stand- 
ing by  the  pillar. 


WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  WILL  RAYBURN       III 

She  was  telling  of  the  joy  Jesus  had  brought  to  her  soul, 
speaking  in  a  sweetly  shrill  voice,  raised  to  a  wild  chant,  and 
falling  from  the  monotonous  keynote  to  a  third  below  at  the 
close  of  each  strain.  He  was  astonished  at  her  ecstasy  and 
her  eloquence.  An  uncultivated  person,  of  coarse,  laborious 
life,  she  was  lifted  far  above  her  usual  range  of  thought  by  a 
power  beyond  herself, —  an  influence  indescribable,  wonder- 
ful, which  swayed  all  that  commonplace  assemblage  of  people 
like  a  spiritual  tempest,  and  which  even  William  Raybum, 
calm  as  he  remained  in  the  midst  of  so  much  excitement, 
could  not  but  feel. 

He  left  the  house  to  keep  his  appointment  with  Marian, 
and  would  probably  soon  have  lost  the  impression  which  the 
strange  scene  made  upon  him,  had  it  not  been  for  what  hap- 
pened afterwards. 

Returning  towards  Mr.  Fenway's  house,  Will  saw  the  child 
endangered  by  the  sled,  and  met  with  his  accident,  as  reported 
by  Frank,  in  rescuing  her.  He  picked  himself  up,  andw^asfor 
continuing  his  walk,  when  he  made  the  painful  discovery  that 
one  foot  would  not  bear  his  weight.  Overcome  by  the  an- 
guish of  the  hurt,  he  sank  to  the  ground  again,  and,  as  the 
adverse  Fates  would  have  it,  instead  of  visiting  his  sweet- 
heart that  evening,  went  speedily  to  his  own  home  on  the 
double-runner  that  had  disabled  him.  He  tried  hard  to  con- 
ceal from  his  mother  the  serious  nature  of  his  injur}-.  She 
was  violently  agitated  at  seeing  him  brought  in  by  his  com- 
rades, with  both  the  village  doctors  at  their  heels  ;  and,  being 
very  fond  of  her  boy,  as  well  as  very  much  like  his  Uncle 
Carolus  in  some  respects,  she  alternately  pitied  him  for  his 
misfortune  and  scolded  him  for  his  imprudence. 

"O  my  poor  child,  you're  crippled  for  life,  I  am  sure! 
Why  did  you  rush  in  before  the  sleds?  If  that  Syles  girl 
would  be  so  foolish,  I  don't  see  why  you  should  risk  your 
limbs  !    The  pain  is  dreadful,  I  know !    Not  one  of  the  Syleses 


112  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

was  ever  of  any  account  but  to  get  other  folks  into  trouble. 
Dear,  dear!  any  bones  broken,  doctor.?  I  wish  they  was  all 
in  Jericho!"  meaning  the  wretched  Syleses,  not  the  bones. 

"  Hush,  hush,  mother!"  said  Will,  in  a  low  voice,  while  he 
winced  with  the  pain. 

He  had  been  got  to  bed,  and  the  surgeons  were  bandaging 
the  foot,  when  Mr.  Fenway  and  Grand-Seigneur  Daskill  (as 
the  boys  at  the  store  called  him)  came  in.  Will  was  relieved 
in  his  mind  on  seeing  these  two  together.  It  occurred  to  him 
now,  that  Adolphus  might  have  been  calling  on  Miles  instead 
of  Marian.     Why  had  n't  he  thought  of  it  before  ? 

Fenway  was  cheerfully  sympathetic;  Daskill,  magnanimous. 

"  Well,  well,  William  !  I  hear  you  have  been  playing  the 
hero,"  said  the  merchant. 

"  That 's  too  grand  a  phrase  for  anything  I  've  done,"  Will 
replied.  "  It  would  have  been  thought  nothing  of  if  I  had  n't 
got  hurt.  I  'm  afraid  I  sha'n't  be  able  to  get  to  the  store  to- 
morrow." 

"  I  'm  afraid  you  won't,  nor  for  many  days  to  come.  But 
make  yourself  easy  on  that  score.  I  '11  see  that  your  wages 
go  on  just  the  same.  No  employe  of  mine  shall  ever  suffer 
for  doing  a  good  action, —  as  far  as  I  am  concerned.  Now, 
gentlemen,"  to  the  surgeons,  "  do  the  best  you  can  for  him,  and 
you  will  oblige  me  very  much.  Mrs.  Rayburn,  you  will  nurse 
him,  of  course,  with  all  possible  care  :  a  mother  can  be  trusted 
to  do  that.     Well,  good-night.     Shall  we  go,  Mr.  Fenway  ?  " 

And  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had  the  ordering  of  things 
in  his  quarter  of  the  universe,  even  to  the  attentions  a  mother 
was  to  give  her  suffering  son,  the  grand  seigneur  passed  out. 
Mr.  Fenway  did  not  accompany  him,  but  went  soon  after; 
the  physicians  also  withdrew ,  lastly,  Mrs.  Rayburn,  at  Will's 
command,  thinking  he  wanted  to  sleep,  went  to  lie  down  in 
the  next  room.  He  was  left  alone  with  his  pain  and  his 
thronging  thoughts. 


WHAT    HAPPENED    TO    WILL    RAVBURN..  II3 

There,  in  the  silence  and  darkness,  a  great  light,  like  that 
which  shone  around  Saul  of  Tarsus  on  his  journey,  flooded 
the  young  man's  life.  His  condition  of  mind,  so  long  agi- 
tated by  love  and  anxiety,  had  rendered  him  peculiarly  sus- 
ceptible at  this  time  ;  and  now  the  hope,  that  was  almost  a 
certainty,  of  Marian's  acceptance  of  him,  the  awakening  of 
thought  and  emotion  which  he  had  experienced  at  the  revival 
meeting,  even  the  stimulus  of  bodily  pain,  an  unconscious 
excitement,  all  combined  to  produce  an  exaltation  of  spirit, 
which  seemed  to  him  like  divine  inspiration. 

He  was  no  longer  a  child,  lying  under  the  trees,  and  look- 
ing up  into  the  summer  sky  with  a  child's  yearning  and  ques- 
tioning soul,  but  a  man,  with  all  a  man's  passions  and  powers 
of  thought,  to  whom  the  reality  of  spiritual  life  and  the  un- 
speakable beauty  of  truth  and  righteousness  were  suddenly 
revealed. 

"  To  live  this  life,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  to  carry  this  which 
I  now  feel  forever  in  my  heart,  how  gladly  would  I  give  up 
riches,  honors,  accept  poverty,  shame,  toil,  be  a  companion 
of  the  humblest,  and  a  servant  of  the  poor  !  " 

There  was  one  trait  which  distinguished  all  who  had  the 
Carolus  blood,  —  alike  the  uncle  and  the  nephew,  much  as 
they  differed  in  other  things.  That  was  sincerity.  Accord- 
ing as  they  believed  or  disbelieved,  so  they  lived  and  moved 
among  men.  There  was  no  hypocrisy  about  that  sincere  old 
sinner ;  never  any  about  this  sincere  young  sceptic.  The  old 
man  believed,  with  all  his  intense  and  narrow  soul,  in  a  life 
of  selfishness,  and  lived  it  openly.  And  now  that  the  young 
man  was  beginning  to  see  the  grandeur  and  ravishing  grace 
of  that  other  life,  would  not  something  real  and  potential 
come  of  it  ? 

Somehow,  with  this  new-found  spiritual  joy,  the  love  of 
Marian  Fenway  was  so  closely  mingled  that  they  seemed  one. 
He  could  not  see  his  life  separate  from  hers.  With  pure  and 
8 


114  FARNELLS    FOLLY. 

exalted  passion  he  reached  out  the  arms  of  his  spirit,  and 
drew  her  image  to  him,  murmuring,  with  infinite  tenderness, 
"  I  am  all  yours  now,  and  we  are  both  the  Truth's !  We  will 
go  through  the  world  daring  to  do  right,  —  we  two  together, 
and  the  love  of  heaven  in  us,  O  Marian ! " 

The  next  morning  Mrs.  Rayburn  came  softly  into  her  son's 
chamber,  and  found  him  asleep.  She  was  going  softly  out 
again,  when  he  started  up. 

"I  was  just  having  a  strange  dream,"  said  he.  "I  saw 
a  sexton  digging  a  grave.  It  was  winter ;  everything  was 
gloomy,  and  cold  and  shivering  people  stood  looking  on  while 
he  broke  the  clods.  At  last,  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  dark 
pit,  the  point  of  his  pickaxe  struck  a  spring  of  water.  It  rose 
in  a  glittering  jet,  higher  and  higher,  flashing  in  the  sunshine, 
and  spreading  out  until  it  filled  all  the  sky  with  a  beautiful, 
rosy-white  cloud.  The  world  was  changed  to  summer ;  and  I 
saw  the  faces,  which  looked  so  sad  and  careworn  before,  won- 
derfully illumined,  gazing  up  at  the  fountain.  Then  I  looked 
again,  and  the  rosy-white  cloud  seemed  all  made  up  of  angels ; 
there  were  myriads  of  them  !  " 

"  That  was  a  very  curious  dream,  my  son,"  said  the  widow. 
"  How  is  your  ankle  }  " 

He  was  gazing  upward,  with  a  far-away  look  in  his  eyes 
and  a  light  upon  his  face,  as  from  the  cloud  he  had  described. 
It  was  not  until  she  had  repeated  her  question  —  laying  her 
hand  on  his  forehead,  wondering  if  he  were  not  a  little  deliri- 
ous —  that  his  mind  came  back. 

"  Oh !  my  ankle  !  I  think  it  is  getting  along.  I  had  for- 
gotten all  about  it." 

"  Will  you  have  your  breakfast  now  ? " 

"  Any  time,"  he  answered  absently. 

"  What  shall  I  bring  you  ?  " 

"The  New  Testament." 

Good  Mrs.  Rayburn  stood  astonished.     She  was  a  moder- 


WHAT    HAPPENED    TO    WILL    RAYBURN.  II5 

ately  pious,  church-going  woman,  and  she  would  have  been 
pleased,  had  she  not  been  in  doubt  as  to  his  state  of  mind,  to 
hear  him  call  for  the  book  which  she  had  often  urged  him  in 
vain  to  read. 

"  Oh  !  would  you  really  like  it,  my  son  ? "  The  well-worn, 
leather-covered  volume  was  quickly  brought.  "  What  passage 
do  you  want  to  find  ? " 

"  I  want  to  read  over  ever}^thing  about  Christ,"  he  replied, 
taking  it  eagerly  from  her  hands.  "  What  an  extraordinary 
life  his  was  !     I  never  understood  it  before." 

"  Oh  !  and  do  you  think  you  understand  it  now  ? "  asked  the 
mother,  with  a  hopeful  smile. 

He  made  no  reply ;  his  soul  was  absorbed  in  the  book. 

He  read  awhile,  then  called  for  pen  and  paper.  He  must 
let  Marian  know  that  her  one  great  wish  in  regard  to  him  was 
in  a  fair  way  to  be  fulfilled ;  he  must  tell  her  of  this  new, 
heart-quickening  joy. 

The  letter  \vrltten,  his  mother  must  drop  everything,  and 
carr}'  it  over  to  Mr.  Farnell's,  to  give  it  to  Genevieve,  who 
was  to  give  it  to  Marian  on  the  way  to  school.  Poor  Mrs. 
Rayburn  still  thought  her  boy  a  little  out  of  his  head. 

Will  hoped  that  Marian  would  come  and  see  him.  But 
she  wrote  him  a  letter  instead,  —  not  such  a  letter,  either,  as 
he  had  expected  she  would  write.  There  v/as  a  singular  con- 
straint about  it.  She  rejoiced,  of  course,  at  the  serious  turn 
his  mind  had  taken  ;  expressed  sorrow  for  his  accident  and 
approval  of  his  heroic  conduct,  but  touched  evasively  the 
question  of  their  personal  relations. 

It  was  a  prettily  written,  charming  billet,  nevertheless,  and 
Will  tried  to  convince  himself  that  he  ought  to  be  satisfied 
with  it.  His  mind  was  abundantly  relieved  on  one  hitherto 
vexatious  subject :  Marian's  mother  could  now  have  no  rea- 
sonable ground  of  objection  to  his  suit.  How,  then,  could  he 
doubt  that  all  would  yet  be  well  ? 


n6  farnell's  folly. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

WILL    RECEIVES    A    SHOCK. 

Whex  Miss  Maybloom's  seminar}-,  in  the  most  ruthless 
and  inconsiderate  manner,  robbed  Ward  Farnell  of  his  oldest 
daughter,  he  regarded  himself  as  a  deeply  injured  man.  The 
house  was  intolerably  lonesome  without  her.  He  had  nobody 
now  to  utter  his  complaints  to  during  the  day  (though  he  was 
pretty  sure  to  make  up  for  the  deprivation  when  she  came 
home  at  night) ;  nobody  to  wait  upon  him  as  he  sat  smoking 
by  the  stove ;  to  bring  his  newspaper  and  his  slippers ;  to 
provide  the  important  matter  of  dinner,  —  sad  strait  for  a 
man  like  Ward  Farnell.  It  did  seem  as  if  Julia  might  have 
had  a  little  more  consideration  for  him  when  she  accepted 
that  situation. 

Since  his  bankruptcy,  the  proud  man  had  avoided  societ}*, 
but  now,  forced  from  home  by  sheer  lonesomeness,  he  began 
to  show  himself  in  public  haunts.  He  glided  into  the  tavern 
and  joined  the  group  of  bar-room  loungers,  in  a  very  quiet 
and  unostentatious  way,  as  if  anxious  to  shun  observation. 
He  soon  entered  more  boldly,  however,  and  took  his  dram,  a 
conspicuous  seat  by  the  fire,  and  a  part  in  the  conversation  ; 
he  even  ventured  into  the  old  store,  spoke  humbly  to  Mr. 
Emmons,  and  gossiped  with  the  village  idlers  sitting  around 
the  stove.  He  had  felt  great  contempt  for  such  idlers  once  : 
times  were  altered  now. 

After  a  little  experience  of  this  life.  Ward  Farnell  began 
to  consider  himself  an  important  figure  in  it.  Not  a  loafer, 
sir,  by  any  means,  his  manner  seemed  to  assure  you,  but  a 
gentleman  of  leisure  ;  a  great  financier,  unbending  his  facul- 


WILL    RECEIVES    A    SHOCK.  11/ 

ties  after  a  long  strain ;  a  mighty  merchantman,  temporarily 
hauled  up  for  repairs.  To  hear  him  speak  of  his  former 
mercantile  operations,  or  of  his  schemes  for  making  future 
vast  fortunes,  was  remarkably  edifying  to  those  who  knew 
him  least. 

While  accustoming  himself  to  this  new  sphere,  he  used  to 
drop  in  on  a  neighbor  now  and  then ;  he  even  deigned  to 
visit  Widow  Rayburn's  cottage,  and  sit  comfortably  for  a  good 
hour  by  Will's  lounge,  when  that  young  gentleman  was  laid 
up  with  his  lame  leg.     Times  were  changed  indeed. 

"  Now,  William,"  said  Ward  Farnell,  when  he  went  away, 
"come  over  and  see  me  as  soon  as  you  can  hobble  out." 

One  mild  March  afternoon  Will  did  accordingly  hobble 
over  to  Ward  Farnell's  cottage,  —  hobble  into,  and  even 
through  it,  finding  no  one,  until,  guided  by  the  sound  of  a 
saw,  he  discovered  the  retired  merchant  in  the  shed,  assidu- 
ously playing  upon  the  instrument  which  produced  that 
homely  music.  Will,  standing  in  the  doorway,  supported  on 
leo"  and  crutch,  waited  for  him  to  finish  his  tune,  then  over- 
whelmed him  with  surprise  and  embarrassment  by  making 
his  presence  known. 

"  .\h,  William !  Truly  delighted !  But  you  —  I  'II  put  on 
my  coat  and  be  with  you  presently.  This  is  very  unusual 
work  with  me." 

It  was  very  unusual  indeed ;  but  the  truth  is,  Julia  had 
recommended  it  lately  as  a  wholesome  employment  of  his 
leisure,  enforcing  her  argument  by  a  statement  of  plain  facts : 
breakfasts  and  suppers,  let  alone  dinners,  could  not  be  ex- 
pected to  come  to  time  without  firewood  sawed  and  split. 
Firewood  there  was,  but  no  money  in  the  house  to  pay  for 
the  sawing  and  splitting.  She  herself  could  do,  and  did 
willingly  do,  many  things,  even  to  subdividing  now  and  then 
a  stick  (while  he  sat  smoking  his  pipe  and  reading  his  paper), 
but  her  strength  of  arm  was  unequal,  and  her  style  of  dress 


Ii8  farnell's  folly. 

unadapted,  to  wielding  the  manly  saw.  On  this  hint  he  had 
set  himself  to  the  ignoble  task. 

He  was  ready  with  his  apologies:  — 

"Exercise,  exercise,  William!  There  's  nothing  like  it!  I 
think  of  getting  a  horse  soon," 

"  A  saw-horse  ? "  said  Will. 

"  No,  no !  a  fine  animal  to  ride  ;  something  to  keep  down 
this  tendency  to  a  corpulent  habit.  Walking  and  driving 
don't  do  it.  Sawing  wood,  alternated  with  splitting,  is  better, 
and  very  good  exercise  indeed.     Did  you  ever  try  it  ?  " 

"It  seems  to  me  I  have,  and  at  no  very  distant  period  of 
my  life,  if  my  memory  serves  me,"  Will  answered  ;  having,  in 
fact,  tried  it  that  very  afternoon,  in  spite  of  his  lameness. 
"But  I  have  generally  done  it  not  because  I  wanted  the 
exercise,  but  because  my  mother  wanted  the  wood." 

"  A  good,  honest  reason,"  said  Ward  Farnell  cheerily, 
leading  the  way  to  the  kitchen.  "  Sit  down.  I  've  carelessly 
let  the  fire  go  out  in  the  sitting-room  "  (it  had  gone  out  for 
lack  of  the  aforesaid  sawing  and  splitting),  "but  you  won't 
mind.     Have  a  pipe  ?  or  a  glass  of  something  ? " 

Will  had  no  occasion  for  either. 

"  I  've  been  thinking,"  said  Ward  Farnell,  lighting  a  pipe 
for  himself,  "  that  a  man  of  enterprise  might  make  a  pretty 
thing  by  getting  up  a  Village  Water-Power  Co-operative  Cir- 
cular Wood-Saw  Company, — give  it  some  good  name  like 
that,  —  and  saw  wood  for  a  whole  community.  Shareholders 
privileged.  The  water  to  perform  the  work.  It  might  be 
made  profitable,  and  pay  the  president,  or  manager,  a  good 
salar}'." 

Ward  Farnell  looked  as  if  the  said  president  or  manager 
might  be  found  without  advertising  in  the  papers. 

"I  see  objections  to  such  a  scheme,"  said  Will. 

"Good!  Name  them!"  said  Ward  Farnell,  with  large 
toleration.     "  I  always  like  to  consider  objections." 


WILL    RECEIVES    A    SHOCK,  II9 

"  There  are  two  classes  of  people  who  would  not  be  apt  to 
patronize  your  Central  Co-operative  Water-Power  Wood-Saw 
—  if  I  've  got  the  title  correct." 

"  Correct  enough  ;  I  'm  not  sure  but  the  fomi  you  give  it  is 
better  than  mine.  All  that  can  be  considered  afterwards. 
Now  for  the  point." 

Ward  Farnell  puffed  and  glowed.  Argument  was  his  forte, 
and  he  now  had  a  scheme  to  talk  about,  with  a  young  man  at 
the  other  end  of  the  alley  to  set  up  objections. 

"  First,"  said  Will,  "  there  are  those  who  would  find  it 
cheaper  to  get  their  wood  sawed  by  hand  than  to  haul  it 
to  and  from  your  W'ater-Power.  A  large  class,  I  'm  think- 
ing." 

"Ay,  ay,  William,  a  verj'-  large  class.  People  living  at  a 
distance.  You  could  n't  expect  the  inhabitants  of  Siam  and 
Senegambia  to  bring  us  their  wood  to  be  sawed.  Granted. 
Now,  the  other  class  ?  " 

Pins  all  down,  and  a  spare.  Ward  Farnell  poised  his  in- 
tellectual power  for  another  roll. 

"Those  who,"  said  Will,  "regard  the  exercise  of  sawing, 
alternated  with  splitting,  as  something  desirable  for  their 
constitutions." 

"  True,  very  true  !  Good,  very  good  !  But  that  class  is 
small." 

"As  far  as  my  observation  goes,"  said  Will,  "it  is — quite 
small."  And  his  eye  rested  with  a  quiet  twinkle  on  Ward 
Farnell. 

Ward  Farnell  abruptly  changed  the  subject. 

"  Now,  make  yourself  comfortable,  William.  Julia  will  be 
home  presently.  She  finds  teaching  a  great  relief  to  her 
mental  activity,  and  she  is  doing  an  immense  work  up  there 
at  the  seminar}',  perfectly  immense  !  That  reconciles  me 
to  her  being  there,  —  the  good  of  the  community.  We  have 
to   sacrifice    something   to   our   fellow-creatures.      Will,   the 


I  20  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

world  is  just  beginning  to  find  out  what  an  extraordinary 
girl  our  Julia  is.  She  's  the  most  competent  young  woman, 
William!"  and'so  forth,  the  father  continuing  to  brag  of  his 
daughter  until  the  daughter  came  in. 

She  was  looking  weary  from  her  day's  work  at  the  school, 
but  her  face  lighted  up  at  sight  of  Will.  Loosening  her 
bonnet-ribbons,  she  sat  down  in  the  kitchen  with  her  things 
on,  and  inquired  about  his  hurt. 

"  My  foot  is  all  right,  I  think,"  —  he  glanced  down  at  it,  as 
it  rested  on  a  chair, — "but  it  is  hardly  safe  to  use  it  yet." 
Then  he  looked  earnestly  in  her  face.  "  How  are  you  getting 
on  ?  I  'm  afraid  you  find  your  new  work  harder  than  you  ex- 
pected." 

"  It  is  perfectly  gigantic  !  "  said  Ward  Farnell.  "  There 
isn't  another  young  woman,  William  —  " 

Julia  interrupted  him,  and  confessed  that  she  found  some 
things  rather  trj'ing  in  her  new  situation. 

"  There  's  a  class  of  girls  in  the  school  who  give  me  a  great 
deal  of  anxiety.  In  consequence  of  too  much  parental  indul- 
gence, or  a  want  of  natural  capacity,  they  are  shockingly  de- 
ficient in  the  commonest  branches  of  education.  Some  are 
children  of  wealthy  parents ;  others  come  from  families  that 
cannot  so  well  afford  the  expense  of  a  private  school.  They 
are  there  because  they  are  not  capable  of  pursuing  the  studies 
expected  of  girls  of  their  age  in  the  public  schools,  and  they 
would  be  ashamed  to  appear  in  the  classes  where  they  really 
belong.  Private  seminaries  are  more  accommodating.  So 
they  come  to  varnish  up  their  ignorance  at  Miss  Maybloom's, 
and  get  on  a  little  show  of  accomplishments,  or  at  least  to 
have  it  said  that  they  have  been  at  a  fashionable  boarding- 
school.     How  to  do  my  duty  by  them  I  don't  know." 

"  She  forgets  she  has  a  duty  to  herself  and  her  family,"  said 
Ward  Farnell,  "  She  pours  her  energy  into  those  girls,  trying 
to  inspire  them  with  some  ambition.     But  it  is  like  priming  so 


WILL    RECEIVES    A    SHOCK.  121 

many  dry  pumps  :  they  won't  prime.  She  only  wears  herself 
out." 

"  I  suppose  I  shall  soon  get  used  to  it,"  said  Julia,  "  and 
reconcile  my  conscience  to  things  that  distress  me  now.  There 
are  my  French  classes."  She  gave  a  shrug,  and  a  look  of 
comic  despair.  "  In  translation  and  construction  some  of  the 
girls  do  tolerably  well,  but  in  pronunciation,  horrible,  most 
horrible  !  They  rattle  off  their  Racine  with  railroad  speed ; 
but  Racine  himself  would  not  recognize  a  word  of  his  tragedy, 
or  a  sound  of  his  native  tongue,  from  one  act's  end  to  another." 

"  Whose  fault  is  that }  "  asked  Will. 

"  I  hardly  know,"  Julia  replied.  "  I  remember  a  similar 
state  of  things  when  I  went  to  school  there,  and  we  had  Mile. 
Rossignol  herself  to  instruct  us.  It  is  thought  highly  impor- 
tant for  young  persons  learning  French  to  get  the  accent  from 
a  native.  Mademoiselle  was  a  Parisian,  but  nobody  ever  got 
the  accent  from  her.  She  tried  hard  enough  to  impart  it;  but 
the  girls  all  lacked  something,  —  either  the  ear,  or  the  con- 
science of  the  ear,  if  you  know  what  I  mean.  They  would  n't 
trill  the  r,  or  distinguish  the  nasal  sounds,  or  pronounce  the  u 
twice  alike  unless  they  pronounced  it  wrong.  She  soon  gave 
up  in  despair,  and  away  they  went,  capering  slipshod  over  the 
poor,  downtrodden,  unrecognizable  French  sounds.  How  she 
must  have  suffered!  I  know  now  what  that  look  of  tribula- 
tion meant.  I  did  as  the  rest  did,  because,  while  I  was  in  the 
class,  it  was  not  easy  to  do  differently." 

"  But  daughter  is  like  no  other  girl  in  the  world,  William  !  " 
broke  in  Ward  Farnell.  "  She  felt  that  it  was  all  wrong ;  so 
she  proposed  to  give  up  the  French  class,  and  take  private 
lessons.  The  little  Frenchwoman  used  to  come  to  the  house, 
and  I  often  heard  her  say  it  was  a  perfect  delight  to  have 
such  a  pupil.  Daughter  would  never  pass  over  a  sound  with- 
out getting  it  as  nearly  right  as  possible,  pronouncing  very 
slowly  at  first,  then  acquiring  rapidity  by  degrees." 


122  FARNELL  S    FOLLY, 

"  I  've  begun  with  a  new  pronouncing  class  of  young  girls 
in  the  same  way,"  said  Julia.  "  It  is  extremely  trying  both  to 
their  patience  and  mine.  But  I  mean  to  have  such  a  class 
that  you  will  hear  at  least  one  r  trilled  in  the  course  of  a 
whole  reading  lesson,  which  will  be  a  new  thing  up  there. 
Then,  to  say  nothing  of  the  more  difficult  sounds,  there  are 
the  simple  ^'s  and  /'s,  which  a  Frenchman  forms  with  the  tip 
of  the  tongue  against  the  teeth,  and  we,  with  it  farther  back, 
against  the  roof  of  the  mouth.  I  never  yet  saw  a  teacher 
that  noted  the  distinction ;  but  it  is  one  of  those  little  things 
which  go  to  make  up  what  we  call  accent.  I  have  got  my 
class  so  that  they  perceive  it,  and  by  forming  the  /  or  d  prop- 
erly, they  can  trill  an  r  that  follows  it,  as  they  cannot  easily 
if  they  begin  with  the  tongue  too  far  back.  But  I  am  talking 
to  you  as  if  you  w-ere  as  much  interested  in  the  subject  as  I 
am. 

"You  make  me  interested  "  said  William  ;  "you  make  me 
want  to  study  the  language."  And  he  added,  "  If  I  thought 
I  was  to  be  disabled  a  whole  quarter,  and  if  an  owl  would  n't 
be  out  of  place  among  so  many  doves,  I  should  like  nothing 
better  than  to  join  your  class." 

"  You  can  do  better  than  that,"  Julia  replied.  "  Come 
over  here  in  the  evening,  and  I  will  give  you  lessons." 

She  blushed,  and  was  immediately  on  the  point  of  taking 
back  a  proposal  which  she  thought  might  with  more  pro- 
priety have  come  from  him.     But  he  eagerly  accepted  it. 

"  If  you  really  want  to  learn  French,"  said  Ward  Farnell, 
"  you  '11  find  her  the  most  competent  teacher  in  the  whole 
countr}'.  She  can  teach  the  accent  better  than  a  native  can  : 
that 's  because  she  has  a  thorough  knowledge  of  both  lan- 
guages. One  wouldn't  suspect  it,  because  she  is  never  heard 
quoting  French,  It  is  those  w^ho  have  only  a  smattering  of 
knowledge  who  are  always  parading  it."  And  Ward  Farnell 
quoted,  with  pompous  declamation :  — 


\MLL    RECEIVES    A    SHOCK.  I23 

"  '  A  little  learning  is  a  dangerous  thing: 

Drink  deep,  or  taste  not  the  Hyperion  spring  ! '  " 

"O  father,"  cried  Julia,  "I'm  afraid  you  are  illustrating 
the  force  of  your  own  misquotation  !  " 

"  What !  have  n't  I  quoted  correctly  ?  " 

"No,  indeed.     Pierian  spring,  not  Hyperion!" 

"  I  'm  sure  it 's  Hyperion,'''  Ward  Farnell  maintained  stout- 
ly. "  You  're  generally  in  the  right,  daughter,  but  you  're 
■wrong  for  once.  Hyperion  was  a  very  important  personage 
in  ancient  histor}-.  I  suppose  he  had  a  spring  somewhere. 
But  Pyerion —  I  don't  know  Pyerion  !  " 

"  Pieria  was  the  birthplace  of  the  Muses,"  said  Julia. 
"The  Muses  stand  for  culture.  Pierian  spring,  —  the  spring 
of  knowledge." 

"  Ingenious,  extremely  ingenious,  I  admit.  But  you  're 
wrong,  daughter.  I  've  been  familiar  with  the  passage  all  my 
life.  I  can  turn  to  it  now.  I  know  just  the  book  in  my 
librar}',  the  page  of  the  book,  and  the  line  on  the  page." 

So  saying,  Ward  Farnell,  with  that  look  of  profound  and 
positive  knowledge  which  often  goes  further  than  facts  in  an 
argument,  walked  boldly  and  majestically  into  the  next  room, 
where,  instead  of  hunting  up  his  quotation,  —  which  would 
have  been  no  easy  task,  since  the  said  book,  even  the  said 
library-,  so  soundingly  alluded  to,  was  entirely  imaginar}-,  — 
he  proceeded  quietly  to  kindle  a  fire  in  the  stove  with  wood 
he  had  lately  been  splitting. 

There  was  a  silence  for  a  moment,  Julia  and  Will  looking 
earnestly  at  each  other.  The  same  thought  was  in  both  their 
minds. 

"  How  is  Marian  getting  along  ?  "  said  Will. 

Julia  hesitated.     "  Do  you  mean  in  her  studies  }  " 

"Well  —  yes  —  in  her  studies." 

"  Not  ver}'  well,  I  'm  afraid.     She  is  not  at  all  like  those 


124  FAKNELL  S    FOLLY. 

girls  I  spoke  of,  but  other  things  take  up  her  mind  too  much 
just  now." 

Will  changed  color,  "  I  don't  see  how  that  can  be.  I 
have  written  to  her  since  I  have  been  sick,  I  hoped  she 
would  come  to  see  me.  But  she  does  n't ;  and  her  replies  to 
me  have  been  very  brief.  Her  excuse  is,  that  she  is  wholly 
occupied  with  her  lessons  —  making  up  for  lost  time.  Of 
course,  I  approve  of  that." 

"  I  should  hope  you  would,"  said  Julia,  fingering  her  bon- 
net-strings, with  a  demure  look. 

The  look  was  too  demure.  Will,  with  his  quickened  per- 
ceptions, saw  beneath  it  what  she  meant  to  conceal. 

"Julia  Farnell,"  he  broke  forth,  with  startling  directness, 
"  will  you  be  sincere  with  me  ?  " 

"You  certainly  deserve  that  I  should  be." 

"You  are  in  Marian's  confideace  ?  " 

"No;  I  have  been,  but  I  am  not  now." 

"  Why  not  now  .?  " 

"Because,  I  think,  she  knows  I  would  not  approve  of  her 
course." 

"  Then  you  will  be  betraying  no  confidence  if  you  talk  with 
me  freely  about  her.  O  Miss  Farnell,  will  you  be  my 
friend  ? " 

"I  have  a  very  strong  feeling  of  friendship  for  you,  Wil- 
liam." 

"  Then  tell  me  !  Am  I  one  of  the  things  that  draw  her 
mind  from  her  studies  }  " 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so  ;  one  of  them." 

"You  suppose  so!  one  of  them!  But  not  the  principal 
one  ?  " 

"  No,  not  now,  William.  I  think  you  ought  to  know,  but  it 
is  terrible  to  me  to  have  to  tell  you.  I  love  poor,  dear  Mar- 
ian, and  I  —  I  wish  I  could  say  just  what  you  would  like  to 
hear  I " 


WILL    RECLIVES    A    SHOCK.  125 

After  a  strong  effort  at  self-mastery,  Will  said,  "Who  is 
the  principal  one  —  now  ?  " 

"  You  ask  of  me  what  I  do  not  really  know,  w^hat  I  only 
suspect.  I  wish  you  would  n't  urge  the  question.  I  wish  you 
would  see  Marian  herself.  You  ought  to  see  her,  for  her 
own  sake  as  well  as  yours.     I  don't  think  it  is  too  late." 

"  I  will  see  her,"  said  Will.  ''But,  Julia,"  —  he  had  never 
called  her  simply  Julia  before,  —  "  answer  my  question !  Is  it 
that  man  Daskill?" 

"  O  Will,  I  fear  it  is  !  " 

"  From  anything  you  have  heard  ?  " 

"  More  from  what  I  have  seen." 

Self-control  had  become  impossible  ;  Will  trembled  from 
head  to  foot.     "  Tell  me  all !     What  have  you  seen  ?  " 

"  I  have  seen  Mr.  Daskill  come  out  of  the  new  house  as 
she  was  returning  from  school,  meet  her,  and  walk  home  with 
her." 

"  Was  she  expecting  him  ?  " 

"  I  think  so.  We  were  walking  together.  Her  manner 
was  strange  and  absent  •  she  was  evidently  expecting  or 
dreading  something.' 

"  Dreading — if  I  could  only  think  that !  Did  she  seem  — 
pleased  when  she  saw  him  ?  " 

"  She  was  in  a  flutter  of  excitement.  That  is  all  I  know. 
I  walked  on  and  left  them." 

"  Did  this  happen  more  than  once  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  three  times,  to  my  knowledge.  But  I  was  walking 
with  her  the  first  time  only.  After  that  I  felt  that  she  pre- 
ferred to  go  alone." 

"Then  she  wanted  to  meet  him!"  said  Will  "And  all 
the  while  she  could  not  come  and  see  me,  she  could  write 
only  very  short  notes,  because  she  was  so  occupied  with  her 
studies  !  O  Julia,  to  look  at  her,  would  you  think  her  capa- 
ble of  such  perfidy  ? " 


126  farnell's  folly. 

"  Perfidy  is  a  hard  word,"  said  Julia.  "  Of  herself,  I  don't 
think  she  could  do  as  she  does ;  but  we  know  what  influence 
she  is  under." 

"  Do  you  think  it  possible  that  she  loves  him  ?  " 

"  It  may  be  possible  for  her  to  imagine  she  does.  She  is 
very  impressible." 

"  I  know  it ! "  Then,  after  a  pause,  Will  added,  "  O  Julia, 
do  say  something  to  comfort  me  !  " 

"  William,"  said  Julia,  from  immeasurable  depths  of  pity  in 
her  heart,  "  I  would  if  I  could.  And  I  can  say  one  thing.  I 
believe  she  loves  you.  She  could  never  talk  to  me  of  any 
one  else  as  she  has  talked  of  you.  That 's  why  I  want  you  to 
see  her.     You  might  save  her." 

"  I  will !  But  if  her  mother  is  plotting  against  me  again,  it 
will  be  better  for  me  not  to  go  to  the  house.  Can't  you  talk 
to  her  for  me  ?     Get  her  to  see  me  somewhere  }  " 

"  Ought  I  to  do  that  ?     I  dare  not  promise." 

Will  considered  a  moment.  "  How  long  since  she  last  met 
Mr.  DaskiU  ? " 

"Ten  days  at  least.    I  think  he  has  n't  been  in  town  lately." 

"  I  wish  I  knew  how  far  matters  have  gone  with  them  i 
Does  he  write  to  her.''  Of  course  you  don't  know.  Maybe 
Lottie  does.  She  is  a  good  friend  of  mine.  I  '11  see  her  to- 
morrow." 

The  younger  girls  were  now  coming  in.  Will  got  upon  his 
crutch  and  one  sound  foot.  As  he  was  passing  through  the 
sitting-room,  Ward  Farnell  rose  from  his  newly  kindled  fire. 

"  My  library  is  in  such  a  condition  since  we  moved,  Wil- 
liam," said  he,  "that  I  couldn't  just  lay  my  hand  on  that 
book,  —  Pope's  Works,  I  'm  sure  it 's  Pope.  And  I  've  been 
thinking  that  daughter  is  probably  right.  I  was  misled  by  a 
passage  in  Shakespeare.  He  has  something  about  Hyperion 
to  a  satire.  I  had  got  the  two  mixed  up.  Stop  to  tea,  Wil- 
liam." 

Will  thanked  him  and  hobbled  out. 


MARIAN    FORGETS    HER    MOTHERS    COUNSELS.         12/ 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

MARIAN'    FORGETS    HER    MOTHER"?.    COUNSELS. 

Will  had  thus  early  met  with  one  of  those  troubles  in  life 
for  which  religion  itself  fails  to  afford  consolation. 

For  two  weeks  his  mind  had  been  at  peace  with  regard  to 
Marian,  and  during  those  days  and  nights  of  solitary  thought 
and  study  his  soul  had  been  filled  with  a  great  enthusiasm 
and  a  great  faith.  Self-sacrifice,  even  to  martyrdom,  had 
then  seemed  easy  to  him  ;  there  was  nothing  which  he  would 
not  give  for  the  truth,  no  ser\-ice  he  would  not  hasten  to  perform 
for  brotherly  love.  Upborne  on  that  tremendous  spiritual 
wave,  his  power  to  overcome  the  world  and  live  the  life  that 
enraptured  him  in  vision  appeared  boundless.  He  had  read 
and  reflected  a  great  deal,  and  talked  with  few  as  yet. 

And  now,  at  the  first  shock  to  his  affections,  the  very 
foundations  of  his  faith  were  shaken.  He  could  not  believe 
that  all  would  be  well  with  him  if  love  were  lost.  To  him, 
Marian  and  love  were  one  ;  he  did  not  for  a  moment  suppose 
that  his  heart  could  ever  go  out  to  another  woman  as  it  did 
to  her.     She  seemed  even  a  part  of  his  religion. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  following  day,  Mrs.  Geordie  Lor- 
kins,  looking  from  her  window,  saw  a  young  fellow,  \vith  one 
good  leg  and  a  crutch,  carrying  the  other  leg  between  them, 
cross  the  muddy  street  and  turn  up  at  her  door. 

•'  Will  Raybum,  with  his  broken  ankle  ! "  she  exclaimed, 
and  ran  to  meet  him,  and  helped  him  up  the  steps,  and  made 
haste  to  place  a  chair  for  him,  and  set  another  for  his  disa- 
bled foot,  and  took  his  cap  and  crutch,  and  then  introduced 
him  to  Mrs.  Chilgrove. 


128  farxell's  folly. 

Will  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  brow,  and  looked 
across  the  baby's  crib,  and  saw,  sitting  beside  it,  a  quiet  lady 
in  black,  embroidering,  with  elegant  hands,  an  infant's  skirt. 
The  lady  at  the  same  time  lifted  her  eyes,  and  beheld  a 
strongly  built  youth  of  three-and-twenty,  with  strong,  pale 
features,  full  of  native  energy  and  generosity.  She  took  him 
in  at  a  glance,  and  rose,  gathering  up  her  work. 

"You  needn't  leave  us,  Mrs.  Chilgrove,"  said  Lottie. 

But  the  lady,  excusing  herself,  withdrew  to  the  adjoining 
room.  There,  placing  her  work-basket  on  the  bed,  she  sat 
down,  and  resumed  her  embroidery.  The  door  was  left  ajar, 
however;  and  by  a  singular  coincidence,  she  was  seated  in 
that  precise  position  which  enabled  her,  by  just  lifting  her 
eyes,  to  see,  reflected  in  the  bureau  mirror,  a  complete  pic- 
ture of  the  scene  in  the  little  sitting-room,  —  baby  in  the  crib, 
mamma  beside  it,  with  her  back  to  the  open  door,  and  Will, 
with  his  lame  leg  on  a  chair,  his  striking  side-face  slightly 
distorted,  and  rendered  more  haggard  than  it  really  was  by  a 
flaw  in  the  glass. 

"  I  wish  she  had  stayed.  I  'd  like  you  to  get  acquainted 
with  her,"  said  Lottie.  "  She  seems  to  be  a  very  well-inten- 
tioned, respectable  person ;  pleasant,  too,  though  she  never 
says  much.  She  helps  me  a  great  deal  with  my  sewing, 
making  up  nice  things  for  baby,  especially.  She  's  very  fond 
of  baby,  and  that  wins  my  heart." 

Will  heard  this  account  of  the  mysterious  guest  with  indif- 
ference, if  he  heard  it  at  all.  Mrs.  Chilgrove,  in  the  bedroom, 
lifting  a  glance  to  the  mirror,  saw  him  wipe  his  forehead  again 
nervously,  but  heard  no  word  of  reply. 

"Lottie,"  said  Will,  presently,  "I've  come  to  have  a  little 
talk  with  you.  I  think  you  and  Geordie  have  always  been 
my  friends." 

There  was  a  surging  passion  in  his  tones  which  prepared 
her  for  what  was  coming. 


MARIAN    FORGETS    HER    MOTHERS    COUNSELS.        1 29 

"We  are  your  friends,  Will,"  she  said.  "And  it  isn't  our 
fault  that  things  are  as  they  are." 

"  Do  you  think  it  will  be  of  any  use  for  me  to  see  her  ?  "  he 

asked, 

"  I  'm  afraid  not,"  said  Lottie  sorrowfully,  giving  the  crib  a 

rock. 

"Tell  me  the  truth,  now,  Lottie  !  All  I  want  — all  I  have 
asked  to  know,  all  along  — is  the  truth.  If  she  cares  more 
for  anybody  else  than  she  does  for  me  that's  enough.  Is 
she  in  love  with  this  Buffalo  man  ? "' 

"  That  I  don't  know." 

"  You  have  an  opinion.     Is  she  going  to  marry  him  ?  " 

"  That    is    another    question  ;     I    have    an    opinion    about 

that." 

"Tell  me!"  The  young  man  held  himself  firm,  like  a 
brave  soldier  under  sentence,  awaiting  his  death-shot. 

"  Frankly,  then,"  said  Lottie,  "  I  think  Marian  will  marr>' 
Mr.  Daskill." 

Will  said  not  a  word.     He  was    still  finn,    but  very  pale. 

She  went  on  :  — 

"  It  has  looked  to  me  like  it  from  the  first.  Instead  of  go- 
ing back  to  Buffalo  the  day  after  he  made  her  acquaintance, 
as  he  proposed,  he  stayed  in  town,  and  saw  her  ever}-  day  or 
evening — I  don't  know  but  day  <7«^/ evening  —  for  the  rest  of 
the  week.  I  know  of  her  getting  at  least  one  letter  from  him, 
since  he  went  back  to  Buffalo,  and  of  her  answering  it." 

"  She  has  no  time  to  write  me  letters  !  " 

"  I  should  think  that  would  be  enough  for  a  fellow  of  spirit 
like  you.     Why  not  give  her  up  at  once  ?  " 

The  lady  in  the  bedchamber  kept  her  white  hands  moving, 
but  took  not  a  stitch,  while  her  raised  eyes  studied,  in  the 
mirror,  the  reflected  agony  of  Will's  face. 

"  I  can't  give  her  up  till  I  see  her  buried  or  married ;  or,  at 
least,  until  she  tells  me  she  does  n't  love  me.  I  could  never 
■     9 


I30 


FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 


get  her  to  say  that  yet.  I  must  see  her.  Doesn't  she  ever 
come  here  now  ?  " 

"  Not  often.  With  her  lessons  and  her  love-affairs,  she 
has  n't  much  time  left  to  throw  away  on  me  and  baby." 

Lottie  glanced  from  the  window,  and  changed  countenance. 
Rising  presently,  in  haste,  she  said,  — 

"  Sit  right  where  you  are.  Will !  Be  a  man  now,  won't 
you  ? " 

"  Who  is  it  ? "  Will  asked. 

"Strange,  just  as  I  was  speaking  of  her!"  Lottie  replied. 
"It 's  Marian  !  " 

Marian  it  was ;  not  quite  so  pretty,  by  the  way,  not  quite 
so  exquisitely  fresh  and  fair,  as  when  we  first  saw  her.  After 
a  season  of  extraordinary  excitement,  a  season  of  reaction 
had  ensued.  She  missed  the  stimulus  of  meeting  her  new 
lover  in  her  homeward  walks.  A  letter  from  him  had  sufiticed 
to  keep  her  spirits  up  for  a  day  or  two ;  but,  having  answered 
it,  she  now  expected  another,  which  did  not  come.  Would 
he  write  again  >  Or,  having  toyed  with  her  affections  (or 
shall  we  say  her  ambition  ?)  for  a  little  while,  did  he  now 
remember  her  only  with  a  smile,  as  he  thought  how  easily  she 
might  have  been  won  .? 

She  had  ceased  to  blush  at  the  memory  of  the  kiss  which 
he  once  rudely  attempted  to  take.  For  had  she  not  per- 
mitted—  or,  at  least,  not  prevented  him  from  taking — more 
than  one  since  ?  And  on  so  short  an  acquaintance  !  She 
blushed  often  at  the  memory  of  these,  plucked  from  her 
all  too-yielding  lips  by  the  impulsive  fervor  and  irresistible 
audacity  characteristic  of  this  man. 

She  had  come  home  from  school  that  afternoon  just  as 
Nance  returned  from  the  post-office,  bringing  letters.  She 
took  them  with  feverish  eagerness,  glanced  over  them,  and 
put  them  languidly  aside.  There  was  none  with  the  Buffalo 
postmark ;  whereupon  the  lovely,  the  beloved,  the  fortunate 


MARIAN    FORGETS    HER    MOTHERS    COUNSELS.        13! 

Miss  Fenway  appeared  ready  to  sink  with  utter  discourage- 
ment and  weariness  of  life.  Oli,  ye  unlovely,  unloved,  unfor- 
tunate ones,  struggling  at  this  moment  in  loneliness  and 
poverty  against  untoward  fates,  yet  triumphing  over  discour- 
agement, and  finding  the  hard-earned  morsel  of  life  somehow 
sweet  and  wholesome,  after  all,  what  do  you  think.''  Is  she 
so  much  to  be  envied  whom  the  weight  of  a  rose-leaf  makes 
faint  ? 

Another  thing  troubled  Marian.  Julia  had  had  a  few  words 
with  her  on  their  way  home  from  school.  They  echoed  in 
her  memory  now:  "  Vou  are  trifling  with  one  of  the  truest  and 
best  hearts  in  the  world.  You  will  flnd  out  what  you  have  tost 
when  you  have  throicn  hi7n  awavT 

Julia  had  also  urged  her  to  see  Will  once  more,  if  only  to 
part  with  him  kindly,  and  told  her  of  his  intended  visit  to 
Lottie.  Suddenly  Marian  took  up  a  letter,  scarcely  noticed 
before  (it  was  for  nobody  but  Lottie,  and  from  nobody  but 
Geordie!),  hurried  out  with  it,  and  walked  quickly  towards 
her  sister's  house.  Why  such  anxious  haste?  Letters  ad- 
dressed in  that  bold,  careless  hand  were  not  usually  esteemed 
of  so  great  importance  by  anybody  but  Lottie  herself.  An 
unutterable  hunger  of  the  heart  possessed  the  poor  child.  Yet 
she  could  hardly  have  expected  to  meet  Will;  perhaps  she 
merely  wished  to  hear  from  him  again,  to  know  how  he  had 
looked,  and  what  he  had  said. 

She  entered  the  house ;  and  there,  with  her  just-awakened 
babe,  stood  Lottie  ;  and  there,  with  his  crippled  limb  on  a 
chair,  sat  Will.  There,  too,  it  may  be  said,  was  the  bureau- 
mirror  in  the  next  room,  reflecting  her  pretty,  startled  face  to 
the  steady  gaze  of  the  strange  woman. 

Marian  quite  lost  breath  and  color  on  seeing  Will,  but 
quickly  put  on  a  smile.  He  did  not  attempt  to  rise,  he  did 
not  even  put  out  a  hand  to  her,  nor  force  a  smile  in  return, 
but  regarded  her  with  earnest,  questioning  eyes. 


132  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

"  A  letter  for  me  ? "  cried  Lottie,  seeing  it  in  her  hand. 

"Oh  yes!  I  forgot!  I  came  to  bring  it,"  said  Marian, 
rather  incoherently.  She  gave  the  letter;  and  Lottie,  sitting 
down,  babe  in  arms,  in  the  joy  of  getting  news  from  her 
Geordie,  almost  lost  sight  of  the  little  dramatic  scene  which 
seemed  to  possess  such  interest  for  the  spectator  in  the 
bureau  glass. 

Marian  was  so  glad  to  see  Will  out  again!  and  she  offered 
him  her  fluttering  little  hand.  He  took  it,  and  held  it  firmlv, 
almost  too  firmly  for  the  unspeakable  tenderness  he  felt  fcr 
her,  and  looked  in  her  falsely  smiling  face  with  reproach,  and 
anxiety,  and  great  love  depicted  in  his  own, 

"You  are  not  glad  to  see  me,"  she  said,  bringing  all  her 
fascinations  in  play. 

"Glad?  Marian!"  and  to  the  watcher  in  the  glass  her 
coquetry  seemed  a  light  bubble  on  the  heaving  deep  of  this 
man's  mighty  passion. 

"Why  do  you  look  at  me  so,  Will.?  "  she  asked. 

"  Marian  !  why  have  n't  you  answered  my  last  letter  ?  " 

"I  couldn't!  I  had  no  time  —  I  didn't  know  what  to 
write." 

"  Did  you  have  time,  and  did  you  know  what  to  write,  to 
your  new  friend  in  Buffalo?" 

Will  dropped  her  hand,  and  for  a  moment  Marian  was 
frightened  out  of  her  arch,  innocent  ways. 

"I  shall  not  trouble  you  anymore,  Marian,  after  to-day.  I 
am  to  lose  you,  I  suppose  ;  but  I  want  you  to  tell  me  so  with 
your  own  lips." 

"  It  will  be  better  for  you,"  said  Marian.  "  I  am  not  wor- 
thy of  you.     I  never  was ;  I  am  less  so  than  ever  now." 

There  was  a  touch  of  sincerity  in  her  tones  as  she  thought 
of  those  alien  kisses,  and  felt  how  weak,  and  vain,  and  shal- 
low her  own  heart  was  compared  with  the  strength  and 
integrity  of  his. 


MARIAN    FORGETS    HER    MOTHER'S    COUNSELS.        1 33 

Lottie,  seeing  how  serious  the  interview  was  growing,  said, 
"  O  Marian,  if  you  would  only  be  true  to  yourself  once !  "  and 
with  her  letter  and  her  babe  withdrew  to  the  adjoining  room, 
closing  the  door  behind  her,  and  shutting  out  the  remainder 
of  the  scene  from  the  eyes  at  the  mirror,  —  eyes  which  now  ap- 
peared demurely  downcast,  studious  of  the  dainty  embroidery. 

Marian  felt  that  the  time  had  come  when  she  must  either 
take  Will  or  lose  him.  If  she  rejected  him  now,  she  could 
never  hope  to  win  him  back.  She  was  terrified  at  the  thought. 
Oh,  if  she  had  had  but  this  one  suitor!  she  would  then  have 
been  most  happy.  And  was  there  any  hope  of  her  securing 
the  other  ?  1  do  not  suppose  she  meant  to  be  selfish  or  in- 
sincere ;  yet  she  could  not  even  then  help  calculating  l:cr 
chances  in  one  little  corner  of  her  heart. 

"  Do  you  love  that  man  ?  "  said  Will. 

She  knew  that  if  she  said  yes,  he  was  too  noble  a  fellow  to 
importune  her  with  another  word.  And  it  would  not  have 
been  true ;  she  had  no  such  feeling  toward  Adolphus  as  that 
which  drew  her  now,  arms  and  spirit,  body  and  soul,  to  this 
pure  and  passionate  young  lover. 

"  Oh,  no  !     I  don't  love  him." 

"This  is  all  incomprehensible  to  me!"  said  Will.  "You 
and  your  mother  had  one  serious  objection  to  me,  and  only 
one,  as  far  as  I  could  ever  learn.  I  scorn  to  push  my  claims 
now  on  any  pretence  of  having  overcome  that  objection. 
Religion  is  too  sacred  a  thing  in  my  eyes.  But  it  is  strange ! 
While  I  was  indulging  in  new  dreams  of  happiness,  making 
you  a  part  of  my  new  joy,  believing  we  were  now  to  go 
through  the  world  wholly  united,  helping  each  other  to  live  a 
true  life,  —  even  then  you  were  plotting  against  me  !  How  is 
it,  Marian  ?  " 

"Oh,  I  haven't  plotted  against  you!"  said  the  conscience- 
smitten  girl. 

"  But  your  mother  has.     She  favors  Mr.  Daskill .''  " 


134  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

"  I  think  she  does." 

"  Is  he  a  reHgious  man  ?  " 

Poor  Marian  could  only  falter,  "  I  have  never  asked  him." 

"  But  you  have  talked  with  him.     What  do  you  think  ?'' 

Falsehood  flew  to  the  winds  before  this  truth-compelling 
soul. 

"I  think  he  is  not." 

"And  your  mother  thinks  so  too.''" 

"  I  suppose  she  does.     I  have  told  her  what  I  think." 

Sick  at  heart,  Will  turned  av.'ay.  For  a  moment  he  felt 
utter  disgust,  a  sadly  pitying  scorn,  for  all  that  wretched 
intrigue.  She  saw  it  in  his  face,  and,  filled  with  remorse  and 
despair,  flung  herself  on  her  knees  at  his  side.  Her  ambition 
faded  like  the  illusive  dream  it  was,  and  the  fascinating  image 
of  the  rich  and  stylish  Adolphus  receded  far  off  from  her, 
like  something  vain  and  unreal.  Her  heart  was  all  Will's 
then. 

And  when,  all  his  tenderness  returning  at  sight  of  her 
tears,  he  pressed  her  again  for  the  promise  which  was  to  end 
all  this  miser)',  and  decide  their  mutual  future,  she  did  not 
start  away,  but,  with  a  sweet  ray  of  happiness  breaking  through 
the  trouble  of  her  face,  said  evasively, — 

"  I  am  so  young  yet !  " 

"  But  in  a  year  or  two  }  " 

"I  don't  know  —  perhaps  —  if  you  will  be  a  good  boy." 

After  all,  she  did  not  quite  mean  to  say  res;  but  Will 
understood  that  she  did,  and  she  knew  that  he  understood 
her  so. 


MRS.  FENWAY  GETS  HEATED.  135 


CHAPTER  XV. 

MRS.    FENWAY    GETS    HEATED    AND    COOLED    AGAIN. 

No^v  it  so  happened  that  the  mail  train,  which  did  not 
brino-  Marian  the  longed-for  letter  that  afternoon,  brought 
something  of  even  greater  importance  to  her,  namely,  Mr. 

Daskill  himself. 

For  Adolphus,  be  it  known,  was  very  much  m  earnest  m 
re-ard  to  this  suit.  With  the  sagacity  of  an  old  head  in  love 
affairs  he  had  divined  that  she  was  interested  in  somebody 
else  —a  dangerous  competitor,  probably  that  good-lookmg 
youn-  clerk  of  his.  He  had  a  habit-  and  it  is  a  ver>'  excel- 
lent "habit  —  of  giving  critical  matters  assiduous  personal 
attention  •  and,  with  the  directness  and  despatch  of  a  much- 
experienced  man,  long  past  the  delicate  bloom  and  reveren- 
tial dirfidence  of  sweet  first  passion,  he  had  come  down,  bent 
on  prosecuting  this  new  matrimonial  business  in  a  busmess- 

like  manner. 

His  coming  was  opportune  and  welcome  to  one,  at  least; 
and  that  was  black  Nance.  It  was  welcome,  also,  if  not  ex- 
actly opportune,  to  Mrs.  Fenway,  who  had  suffered  all  a  man- 
a-incr  mother's  anxiety  in  his  absence,  and  who,havmg  shared 
Marfan's  recent  disappointment  on  geting  no  letter  from  h.m 
was  just  now  giving  the  customary  vent  to  her  emotional 
effervescence,  by  falling  foul  of  the  first  ears  that  came  wUhm 
her  reach  ;  the  said  ears,  on  this  as  on  other  and  too  frequent 
occasions,  chancing  to  be  the  black  ones.  Not  that  the  v.gor- 
ous  lady  was  in  the  habit  of  swooping  down  upon  them  with 
sudden  flap  and  buffet,  as  of  talons  and  swift  wings,  without 


136  farnell's  folly. 

abundant  cause  for  her  wrath.  Oh  no  !  but  the  fault  was  all 
in  the  girl,  or  in  the  freakish  disposition  of  circumstances,  to 
say  the  least;  for  it  always  happened  that  Nance,  who  could 
scarcely  do  anything  worthy  of  reprimand  when  her  mistress 
was  in  happy  moods,  was  sure  to  fall  into  all  manner  of  errors 
and  mishaps  when  that  lady's  mind  was  disturbed. 

"  Poor  Marian  !  "  quoth  the  mother,  watching  her  favorite 
child  go  down  the  street  with  Geordie's  letter,  "she  's  just  as 
miserable  as  she  can  be  !  How  cruel  in  that  man  to  keep  her 
a  day  in  suspense !  Is  anything  in  this  world  so  wicked?" 
(It  had  never  occurred  to  her  that  it  was  in  the  least  degree 
wicked  for  dear  Marian  to  keep  any  number  of  lovers  in  that 
torment.)  "I  certainly  believed  —  "  She  turned  sharply  on 
Nance,  who  had  taken  a  broom  in  hand,  and  was  singing  as 
she  swept  the  kitchen  floor,  — 

"  Did  n't  you  lose  a  letter,  you  careless  creature  ? " 

"  No,  ma'am,  I  did  n't  lose  no  letter,"  said  Nance,  and  went 
on  with  her  sweeping  and  singing,  showing  a  most  exasperat- 
ing indifference  to  a  matter  of  torturing  anxiety  to  her  mis- 
tress.    Thereupon  the  bird  of  fate  swept  down  upon  her. 

"  Impudence  !  "  (Cuff,  cuff.)  "  I  '11  learn  you  to  sing  when 
I'm  talking!"  (Cuff,  cuff.)  "And  what  are  you  raising 
such  a  dust  for,  when  I  only  told  you  to  brush  up  a  little  ?  " 
(Cuff,  cuff,  cuff.) 

"You  told  me  to  sweep,  and  I  can't  sweep  without  making  a 
dust !  "  was  the  girl's  most  unreasonable  excuse,  shrieked  out, 
as  she  skulked  and  dodged.  At  the  same  time  she  still  fur- 
ther disturbed  the  other's  equanimity  by  adroitly  interposing, 
ever  and  anon,  the  vicarious  broom-handle,  to  receive  the 
blows  intended  for  her  ears,  and  giggling,  between  yelps,  at 
the  highly  pleasing  effect  on  Mrs.  Fenway's  fingers. 

"  I  '11  raise  a  dust  on  you,  you  trollop  !  "  And,  possessing 
herself  of  the  broom,  madam  began  to  dress  the  poor  lamb's 
black  wool  with  it  in  right  lively  fashion. 


MRS.    FENWAY    GETS    HEATED.  1 37 

Nance  screamed,  dodged,  put  up  defensive  elbows,  got  into 
corners,  and  got  out  again  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  showed 
interesting  glimpses  of  bright  ivory  and  white  eyes,  momen- 
tarily flashing  out  from  amid  a  confused  jumble  of  parrying 
arms,  ducking  features,  and  fantastically  flapping  broom-corn. 

The  scufifie  dislodged  the  cat  from  her  comfortable  quarters 
behind  the  door,  where  she  lay  concealed  from  her  enemy, 
the  dog;  and  her  enemy,  the  dog,  seeing  her  dart  out  of  the 
house,  darted  after  her  with  loud  barks,  and  chased  her  up 
the  first  cherry-tree.  There  she  stuck,  at  half-mast,  unable 
to  reach  the  branches,  and  naturally  averse  to  dropping  down 
into  the  expectant  jaws  of  Franco.  With  slipping  claws,  and 
horribly  ruffled  tail,  and  yowlings  of  terror,  looking  down,  first 
over  one  shoulder,  then  over  the  other,  and  seeing  nothing 
but  dog  and  danger  below,  there  she  scratched  and  clung ; 
when  Nance,  imitating  her  example,  also  ran  out  of  the  house. 

Mrs.  Fenway  was  not,  as  we  are  aw'are,  indifferent  to  ap- 
pearances in  her  sober  moments  ;  but  on  occasions  of  great 
excitement  she  was  capable  of  forgetting  almost  ever}^  other 
consideration  in  the  earnest  pursuit  of  the  luxury  in  which  she 
was  indulging.  So  out  of  the  house  she  ran  likewise,  com- 
pleting the  exodus  of  its  inmates,  and  bringing  up  the  rear  of 
the  rapid  procession, — following  Nance,  who  followed  the  dog 
that  chased  the  cat  that  took  refuge  in  the  cherry-tree. 

They  did  not  all  go  up  the  tree,  however ;  Nance  did  not 
even  stop  at  it,  as  Franco  did,  but  made  the  tour  of  the  house, 
closely  pursued  by  her  plump  little  mistress,  red  as  a  fur}', 
sweeping  the  cobwebs  out  of  the  sky  with  the  uplifted  broom, 
in  view  of  the  whole  street.  Slanted  forward,  and  waving  like 
a  baleful  ensign,  sped  the  avenging  besom,  ready  at  any  in- 
stant to  descend  upon  the  woolly  pate  tacking  and  veering 
before  it.  Once  or  twice  it  did  descend  prematurely,  scarcely 
brushing  Nance's  skirts,  and  striking  the  ground,  to  the  man- 
ifest hindrance   and  disadvantage  of  the  pursuer.     On  one 


138  -  farnell's  folly. 

such  occasion,  she  turned  sharply,  and,  running  the  other 
way,  met  Nance  face  to  face.  The  girl  was  going  too  fast  to 
stop;  so  was  Mrs.  Fenway.  Nance  ducked  to  avoid  a  blow; 
and  over  her  went  broom,  and  brandisher  of  broom,  head- 
long. 

Thrown  out  of  her  course  by  the  collision,  Nance  took  to 
the  fish-pond,  —  an  oval-shaped  reservoir  a  few  yards  across,  — 
at  one  side  of  the  path  in  front  of  the  house.  I  do  not  mean 
that  she  jumped  into  it,  —  she  ran  round  it.  Mrs.  Fenway 
followed,  having  gathered  herself  and  her  broom  up  from  the 
soft,  moist  ground  (for  it  was  thawing  March  weather),  and 
the  two  made  an  interesting  race-course  of  the  muddy  walk 
around  the  pond,  to  the  extent  of  three  or  four  circuits.  Then 
Mrs.  Fenway  tried  her  device  of  suddenly  turning  and  run- 
ning the  other  way ;  but  Nance,  who  now  had  her  in  sight, 
was  too  quick  for  her.  Then  the  lady  stopped  on  one  side 
of  the  pond  and  shook  the  broom,  and  cast  bitter  words 
across  at  the  girl  standing  on  the  other  side,  ready  to  run 
either  way,  according  to  circumstances. 

Some  school-boys,  coming  along  the  street,  stopped  at  the 
fence,  and  even  climbed  upon  it,  to  witness  the  show.  They 
seemed  to  consider  it  a  good  show;  but  some  remarks  they 
made  to  that  effect  displeased  Mrs.  Fenway,  who  made  an  in- 
effectual dash  at  them  with  the  broom.  Nance  took  advan- 
tage of  this  diversion  to  perform  a  feat  which  had  more  than 
once  been  her  last  resort  in  seasons  of  tribulation.  She 
sprang  upon  the  trellis  at  the  corner  of  the  house,  climbed  it 
like  a  monkey,  and  got  up  on  the  roof. 

At  the  same  time,  pussy,  having  fallen  from  the  cherr}'-tree, 
and  escaped  the  fangs  of  the  dog  with  the  loss  of  only  a  small 
quantity  of  fur,  came  careering  around  the  corner,  and  made 
also  a  desperate  leap  for  the  trellis,  which  she  scratched  and 
scrambled  up,  reaching  the  eaves  just  as  the  two  pursuers  — 
Franco  from  one  side  with  flaming  tongue,  and  Mrs.  Fenway 


MRS.    FENWAY    GETS    HEATED.  1 39 

from  the  other  with  rampant  broom — rushed  into  collision 
below. 

Now  Franco,  seeing  his  mistress  barking  up  the  same  tree, 
so  to  speak,  with  himself,  and  thinking  puss  the  object  of 
their  mutual  endeavors,  bow-wowed,  and  bounded  into  the 
air,  and  pawed  the  trellis,  with  increased  furj- ;  while  the  boys 
in  the  street  cheered  the  whole  party  with  indiscriminate  jo- 
coseness,  "  Go  it,  broomstick  ! "  "  Sick  'em,  doggie  !  "  "  Scratch- 
cat  !  "  "  Freeze  to  the  shingles,  snow-ball  ! "  with  other  expres- 
sions of  a  like  merrj'  and  hyperbolical  character. 

"Up  there  again,  are  you!"  cried  Mrs.  Fenway,  flourishing 
her  weapon  under  the  trellis.  "Bow!  wow-wow!"  came  in 
like  a  heavy  bass  accompaniment  from  Franco ;  both  faces 
turned  eagerly  up  at  the  two  black  fugitives  (for  the  cat  was 
as  black  as  Nance)  on  the  house. 

"  Come  down  this  instant  and  be  whipped  !"  said  the  lady. 

Nance  did  not  seem  to  think  that  a  sufficient  inducement, 
and,  instead  of  coming  down,  she  got  up  higher.  Then,  squat- 
ting on  the  slant  roof,  holding  on  by  hands  and  heels  to  keep 
herself  from  slipping,  she  grinned  over  her  knees  alternately 
at  her  mistress  and  the  boys,  terrified  kitty  bristling  at  her 
side  with  high-arched  back  and  tail. 

Mrs.  Fenway  retreated  towards  the  fish-pond,  in  order  to 
keep  the  girl  in  sight  over  the  edge  of  the  roof. 

"  Come  down,  now,"  she  called  to  her,  "  or  I  '11  give  you 
the  awfullest  whipping  ever  you  had  in  your  life  when  you  do 
come  !" 

But  Nance  remembered  that  she  had  heard  the  same  threat 
the  last  time  she  took  refuge  on  that  porch,  and  that  after- 
wards, on  Mr.  Fenway's  asking  his  amiable  wife  why  she 
didn't  put  it  into  execution,  she  had  replied,  "Laws!  the 
minx  took  good  care  not  to  come  down  till  she  saw  I  'd  got 
over  being  angr}- ;  and  I  could  n't  bear  to  whip  her  then."  So 
Nance  concluded  that  the  greater  safety  lay  in  sticking  to  the 
roof. 


140  farnell's  folly. 

"  It 's  good  and  sunny  up  here,"  she  observed  cheerfully. 

"  I  '11  fling  things  at  you  !"  said  the  lady. 

"  I  can  shin  up  higher,"  said  the  girl. 

Then  suddenly  the  laughter  of  the  boys  at  the  fence  was 
hushed  to  suppressed  titters,  the  occasion  of  which  seemed  to 
be  the  interesting  fact  that,  as  Nance  backed  up  towards  the 
ridge-pole,  in  order  to  be  out  of  the  range  of  missiles,  Mrs. 
Fenway,  in  order  to  keep  her  in  sight,  continued  to  back 
down  towards  the  fish-pond.  The  pool  was  not  dangerously 
deep  ;  being  fed  by  spring  water  and  warmed  by  the  rays  of 
the  March  sun,  it  had  melted  its  winter  coating  of  ice  to  a  de- 
moralized and  honeycombed  mass  floating  deceptively  on  the 
surface ;  and,  as  it  offered  a  fine  chance  for  a  cold  bath  to  the 
lady's  anger,  the  youngsters  seemed  animated  by  a  lively  de- 
sire to  see  her  walk  backwards  into  it. 

She  did  not  immediately  gratify  them,  but  stooped  at  the 
brink  to  pick  up  a  pebble  and  throw  it.  Franco  watched  her 
hand  as  it  revolved  around  her  head  two  or  three  times  in 
true  feminine  fashion.  Then  away  went  the  pebble,  hitting 
not  even  the  house. 

"  Poor  shot !"  shouted  the  boys,  while  Franco  launched  him- 
self after  it. 

Then  all  at  once  Nance,  who  with  the  cat  had  reached  the 
apex  of  the  roof,  began  to  giggle  and  make  fantastic  gestures. 

"  Look  !  look  !  "  she  cried,  pointing  at  the  street.  "  Com- 
p'ny  coming ! " 

Mrs.  Fenway  cast  a  quick  glance  over  her  shoulder;  down 
went  the  hand  which  had  been  lifted  again,  and  down  almost 
simultaneously  went  she,  having  missed  her  footing  on  the  curb 
of  the  pool,  and  gone  sidewise  with  a  shriek  and  a  splash  into 
the  water. 

The  visitor,  whose  coming  had  been  the  immediate  cause 
of  the  disaster,  was,  as  we  know,  one  of  the  politest  of  men, 
yet  he  could  not  help  showing  some  s}Tnpathy  with  the  merri- 


MRS.    FENWAY    GETS    COOLER    AGAIN.  I4I 

ment  of  the  youngsters  at  the  fence  and  of  Nance  on  the  roof, 
as  he  hastened  to  the  lady's  rescue. 

He  found  her  struggling  amid  tossing  fragments  *of  ice, 
seized  her  by  the  arm  and  drew  her,  strangling  and  gasping, 
from  the  flood,  cheered  in  his  humane  efforts  by  the  boys  at 
the  fence  shouting,  "  Fish  her  out !  "  "  Try  a  hook  and  line  ! "' 
"Use  the  nigger  gal  for  bait!"'  and  making  other  practical 
and  timely  suggestions. 

"Oh,  the  horrors!"  said  Mrs.  Fenway,  once  on  dryland, 
if  any  land  could  be  called  dry  where  she  was  dripping. 
"O  Mr.  Daskill !  "  —  spitting  and  weeping  copious  ice-water. 
"  Did  1  ever  !  "  She  turned  a  wet,  rueful  eye  up  at  Nance, 
riding  the  house  boy-fashion.  "  That  girl !  that  girl !  She  '11 
be  the  death  of  me  ! " 

She  suffered  herself  to  be  led  towards  the  house  by  the  civil 
Adolphus,  who  appeared  wonderfully  solicitous  and  attentive, 
urging  her  to  lose  no  time  in  changing  her  garments,  and  order- 
ing Nance  to  come  down,  in  a  tone  which  secured  obedience, 

"Walk  in,  Mr.  Daskill,''  said  the  good  woman;  "make 
yourself  at  home,  I  beg.  Nance,  go  for  Marian  as  quick  as 
ever  you  can  !  Dear  me ;  you  will  excuse  me,  Mr.  Daskill, 
under  the  circumstances  !  " 

The  man  of  tact  not  only  excused  her,  but  offered  to  go 
himself  and  walk  home  with  Marian.  By  this  time  Nance 
was  at  the  gate,  making  faces  at  the  boys,  and  defying  each 
and  all  of  them  to  "  bunt  heads  "  with  her.  Mr.  Daskill  re- 
buked the  youngsters  for  their  recent  unseemly  levity  (keep- 
ing as  grave  a  countenance  himself  as  he  could),  and  advised 
Nance  to  go  to  Mrs.  Fenway's  assistance. 

But  Nance  had  no  notion  of  falling  into  the  good  lady's 
power  just  then. 

"  You  never  can  find  the  house,"  she  said,  rolling  up  roguish 
eyes  at  him  ;  "'sides,  I  '11  get  it  if  I  go  in  now."  And  she 
capered  on  before  him,  showing  the  way. 


142  farnell's  folly. 


CHAPTER    XVL 

TEMPTED    HY    A    RING. 

William  Rayburn  had  left  Lottie's  house,  carrying  away 
with  him  a  crippled  limb,  but  a  whole  heart,  and  a  positive 
promise  from  Marian  to  meet  him  there  again  on  Saturday. 

Then  Marian,  seeing  Lottie  come  out  to  her  with  question- 
ing sisterly  looks,  questioned  herself,  fearing  she  had  been 
indiscreet ;  thinking  ot  her  mother,  and  remembering,  with  a 
strange  feeling  of  bewilderment,  that  she  was  virtually  en- 
gajred  to  William. 

She  seemed  waking  from  a  sort  of  dream,  and  began  now 
to  dread,  as  a  certainty,  what  she  had  recently  despaired  of, 
the  return  of  Adolphus.  Could  she  have  been  sure  he  would 
not  come,  then  what  peace  and  happiness  in  the  assurance 
that  her  heart  was  henceforth  at  rest  in  Will !  But  if  he 
should  come  ?  She  was  one  of  those  to  whom  a  thing  when 
hoped  for  is  apt  to  appear  far  off,  but  near  and  imminent 
when  its  coming  can  bring  nothing  but  regret ;  and  she 
shared  the  feeling  natural  to  us  all,  when,  having  made  final 
choice  between  a  bird  in  the  hand  and  one  of  fine  plumage  in 
the  bush,  we  secretly  pray  to  be  spared  the  pain  of  seeing 
present  itself  that  which  we  have  cut  ourselves  off  from  the 
possibility  of  enjoying. 

What,  therefore,  must  have  been  the  effect  upon  her  when, 
with  the  knuckle  of  her  pretty  forefinger  to  her  lips,  and  an 
abstracted  look  in  her  eyes,  turning  from  Lottie,  she  let  her 
glance  wander  from  the  window,  and  saw,  coming  into  the 
yard,  escorted  by  Nance,  the  very  man  who  was  in  her 
thoughts  ? 


TEMPTED    BY    A    KING.  I43 

"  Oh,  I  can't  see  him  !  "  she  whispered  wildly.  "  How  do 
I  look.''  Are  my  eyes  red?  And  my  hair!"  For  she  re- 
membered that  her  head  w-as  newly  from  Will's  shoulder. 

"Mr.  Daskill !  the  dickens!"  said  Lottie.  "Run  into  the 
other  room.     I  '11  take  care  of  him." 

Marian,  darting  away,  found  herself  not  alone,  but  in  the 
presence  of  an  industrious  needlewoman,  who  merely  raised 
her  eyes  and  bowed  slightly  as  she  made  room  for  her.  She 
flew  to  the  glass  and  smoothed  her  hair,  trj'ing  at  the  same 
time  to  smooth  her  scared  and  disordered  looks,  fumbled 
nervously  with  her  collar,  w-hich  had  somehow  got  rumpled, 
and  turned,  at  last,  to  the  calm  needlewoman. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  madam.  Mrs.  Chilgrove,  I  presume .' " 
And  would  Mrs.  Chilgrove  be  so  kind  as  to  assist .-' 

"Certainly,"  said  the  placid  seamstress. 

The  beautiful  young  girl,  kneeling  beside  her,  did  not  ob- 
serve the  strange,  greenish  hue  which  overspread  the  pale 
face,  and  the  bitter,  writhing  expression  which  crossed  it, 
gliding  off  at  the  corners  of  the  mouth. 

Collar  and  back  hair  were  promptly  arranged.  Then  as 
Marian  stood  once  more  before  the  glass,  Lottie  entered  and 
said, — 

"  Mr.  Daskill  has  come  to  take  you  home,"  handing  her  her 
things  to  put  on.  "  Dear  me,  I  'd  forgotten  you  were  not  ac- 
quainted.    My  sister  Marian,  Mrs.  Chilgrove." 

"We  have  found  each  other  out,"  said  Mrs.  Chilgrove, 
bowing  coldly. 

Marian  drew  a  long  breath  and  pressed  her  hand  on  her 
heart ;  then,  putting  on  a  resolute,  beaming  smile,  went  to 
meet  her  lover. 

"I  wish  you  could  see  him,"  Lottie  whispered  to  Mrs.  Chil- 
grove, "just  to  know  what  you  would  think  of  him." 

"What  I  might  think  of  him  could  not  be  a  matter  of  the 
least  importance  to  anybody,"  Mrs.  Chilgrove  replied. 


144 


FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 


"Just  for  curiosity,"  said  Lottie. 

"  I  have  no  curiosity."  And  Mrs.  Chilgrove  proceeded  with 
her  work. 

But  as  Lottie  followed  her  sister  from  the  room,  the  demure 
eyes,  stealing  a  quick  glance  at  the  mirror,  saw,  through  the 
open  door,  the  affable  Adolphus  advance,  with  radiant  counte- 
nance and  ungloved  hand,  to  meet  the  lovely  Marian. 

After  a  little  delay,  Lottie  returned  alone,  and  found  her 
guest  at  work,  with  downcast  eyes  as  before,  but  with  a  faint 
flush  on  her  usually  pale  cheeks. 

"  Now  come  into  the  other  room ;  it  is  cold  here,"  said 
Lottie. 

"  f  am  not  cold,"  Mrs.  Chilgrove  replied,  in  her  constantly 
low,  equable  voice.  She  was  never  too  warm  and  never  too 
cold,  and  her  voice  seldom  rose  or  fell  from  that  pitch  of  per- 
fect gentleness  and  self-command.  Nevertheless,  she  took 
up  her  work  and  went. 

"  Did  you  see  him  ?"  Lottie  asked. 

"  I  had  a  glimpse  of  him  and  I  heard  him  speak." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  him  ? " 

"  He  is  a  polished,  passionate,  selfish  man,"  said  Mrs.  Chil- 
grove, plying  her  needle. 

"  You  could  see  so  much  through  a  crack  of  the  door  .' " 

"  My  intuitions  are  unerring.  A  man  cannot  speak,  or  put 
out  his  hand,  or  do  the  smallest  thing  without  betraying  him- 
self." 

"What  do  you  think  of  Will  Rayburn  .'  " 

"  If  your  sister  prefers  this  other  man  to  him,  I  pity  her. 
Both  are  men  of  strong  feelings  and  strong  wills.  But  Mr. 
Rayburn  is  sincere  and  thoroughly  good.  Mr,  Daskill  is  not 
sincere." 

"Does  he  love  her?" 

"Perhaps,  —  in  his  way.  But  the  kind  of  love  he  has  is 
fatal  to  women.     I  see  he  will  be  your  sister's  fate." 


TEMPTED    BY    A    RING.  I45 

Lottie  looked  with  astonishment  and  a  kind  of  awe  at  the 
positive,  pale  sorceress,  sitting  there  in  solemn  black,  uttering 
cold  prophecies  while  she  drew  out  her  tranquil  thread.  In 
a  lower  tone  she  asked,  — 

"  What  do  you  think  of  my  sister.?  " 

Mrs.  Chilgrove  disposed  of  Marian  in  a  word,  "She  is  a 
doll,"  and  changed  the  subject.  "What  is  that  on  the  carpet 
by  your  foot  ?  " 

"  A  ring,  I  declare  ! "  said  Lottie,  stooping  and  picking  it 
up.     "  Whose  can  it  be  ?  " 

She  handed  it  to  her  companion.  Mrs.  Chilgrove  looked 
at  it,  and  said,  — 

"  Did  Mr.  Daskill  take  off  a  glove  when  he  was  here  ? 
What  is  his  first  name  .''  " 

"  Adolphus." 

"Then  these  are  his  initials,  ^A.  £>.,'  on  the  inside."  Mrs. 
Chilgrove  returned  the  ring  to  Lottie. 

"  So  they  are!  "  said  Lottie.  —  "Nance,"  she  called  to  the 
black  girl,  who  was  dancing  up  and  down  the  yard  with  the 
baby  in  her  arms,  "come,  bring  baby  here,  and  take  this  ring 
and  run  with  it  to  Mr.  Daskill.  It  is  one  I  picked  up  on  the 
floor.    He  must  hav^e  dropped  it  when  he  pulled  off  his  glove." 

"Oh,  ain't  that  jest  awful  cunning!"  exclaimed  Nance, 
willingly  gi\ing  up  the  baby  for  the  bawble.  "Oh.  don't  I 
wish  I  had  such  a  purty  ring " ;  and  she  slipped  it  on  her 
black  forefinger.  "He's  such  a  nice  man,  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  he  'd  give  it  to  me.  He  give  me  a  quarter-dollar 
jest  as  we  come  in." 

"What  did  he  give  you  that  for.'' " 

"  Oh,  I  d'n'  know  ;  coz  I  showed  him  the  way  and  was  socia- 
ble with  him,  I  s'pose.  He  said  he  liked  to  hear  me  chatter. 
And  I  told  him  all  about  Miss  Marian's  beaux  and  Will  Ray- 
burn.  We  seen  him  going  away  from  the  gate  jest  as  we  was 
coming  down  the  street,  and  I  said  I  'd  bet  he  'd  been  here  to 


146  farnell's  folly. 

sje  Miss  Marian.  And  he  said  I  was  a  good  little  girl,  and 
gi'  me  the  money." 

•' Whv,  Nance,  you  didn't  tell  him  she  cared  anything  for 
Will,  did  you.'" 

"Course  I  did  ;  and  I  said  she  'd  marry  him  fast  enough  if 
her  mother  was  willing.     You  know  she  would." 

"  Well,"  said  Lottie,  "  if  you  want  your  ears  boxed  a  little 
harder  than  they  ever  were  yet,  just  go  home  and  tell  mother 
what  you  said  to  Mr.  Daskill." 

"Oh,  won't  I?"  giggled  Nance.  And  away  she  skipped, 
holding  up  the  ring  before  her  admiring  eyes,  and  running 
against  the  gate  post  as  she  went  out. 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Daskill  walked  on  by  Marian's  side,  saying 
pleasant  things,  to  which  she  listened  and  replied  with  a  heart 
full  of  misgivings  and  a  face  all  smiles. 

"  I  had  written  a  long  answer  to  your  precious  little  letter," 
he  said,  moderating  his  pace,  and  modulating  his  voice  to  a 
tone  of  tender  earnestness,  as  they  approached  her  home. 
"  But  I  found  I  could  n't  say  what  I  wished  to  say :  there  are 
things  which  cannot  be  expressed  on  paper.  We  can  put  our 
thoughts  into  words,  but  not  the  emotions  of  the  heart." 

"  I  thought  you  were  not  going  to  write  to  me  again,"  said 
Marian. 

"  Did  you  think  me  a  trifler  ?" 

"  I  was  afraid  you  might  think  me  one  ;  and  I  hoped  you 
would  forget —  " 

"  Forget  the  sweetest  moments  of  my  life  ?    Never,  never  !  " 

"O  Mr.  Daskill,  have  you  considered  how  little  we  had 
known  each  other  ?  " 

"  I  have  known  you  for  an  eternity,"  broke  forth  the  impet- 
uous Adolphus.  "Time  is  nothing.  Do  not  think  of  time. 
When  I  first  saw  you,  I  recognized  the  soul  I  had  been  wait- 
ing for.  And  I  have  known  you  long  enough  since  to  learn 
that  you  are  necessary  to  my  happiness." 


TEMPTED    BY    A    RING.  147 

Marian  grew  faint.  She  did  not  speak,  and  he  con- 
tinued, — 

"  I  did  not  send  my  letter ;  for  how  could  I  endure  the 
suspense  of  waiting  for  a  reply  ?  I  have  thought  of  everjlhing 
that  can  conduce  to  your  happiness.  I  have  made  arrange- 
ments to  take  charge  of  the  business  here.  I  shall  still  keep 
my  house  in  Buffalo,  for  the  town  is  always  so  much  pleasanter 
than  the  country  in  winter.  But  I  shall  fit  up  the  Farnell 
estate  for  a  summer  residence,  and  live  here  during  a  part  of 
the  year,  near  your  family  and  friends, — provided  you  will 
consent  to  be  the  mistress  of  my  home,  as  you  are  of  my 
heart." 

Affrighted,  yet  flattered,  Marian  faltered  out,  "  You  take 
me  so  by  surprise  !  I  am  such  a  child  yet,  —  not  fitted  to  be 
any  man's  wife." 

"  You  are  not  fitted  to  be  the  wife  of  any  man  whose  condi- 
tion in  life  would  subject  you  to  tod  and  care.  However 
much  I  might  love  you,  I  should  shrink  from  asking  you  to 
share  such  a  lot  with  me.  But  you  are  fitted  to  be  the  light 
and  joy  of  a  home  of  refinement  and  luxur}'.  In  all  my  expe- 
rience," Adolphus  added,  gazing  at  her  with  extravagant 
fondness  and  admiration,  "  I  have  never  known  a  person  so 
exquisitely  adapted  to  grace  and  adorn  such  a  home  as  your- 
self." 

This  did  not  sound  like  flatter}^  Oh  no!  it  was  the  most 
refined  and  delicate  appreciation.  Had  not  Marian  all  her 
life  been  made  to  believe  that  she  was  an  exceptionally  rare 
and  precious  flower  ?  And  now  here  was  a  man  who  recog- 
nized her  sweetness  and  worth  at  a  glance.  And  he  was  so 
considerate  !  She  u<as  made  to  adorn  a  home  of  luxury,  and 
notXo  fade  in  the  blighting  atmosphere  of  a  poor  man's  life. 
Would  inconsiderate  Will  Rayburn  ever  be  anything  but  a 
poor  man  ? 

Such    thoughts  flashed  through  her  mind  as   she   replied, 


148  farnell's  folly. 

"  It  is  strange  if  you  have  never  found  a  woman  to  please  you 
before." 

"  I  will  be  frank  with  you,"  said  Adolphus.  "  I  have  been 
married.  My  dear  wife  —  you  will  not  think  less  of  her  or 
me  because  she  was  dear  to  me  —  has  now  been  dead  two 
years.  She  left  me  a  son,  who  is  still  living.  You  will  not 
feel  less  tenderness  for  him,  when  I  tell  you  that  he  is  the 
victim  of  a  sad  infirmity,  which  makes  him  an  object  of 
especial  care  to  me.  I  have  an  aunt,  a  refined  and  cultivated 
lady,  who  will  relieve  you  of  the  tedious  details  of  house- 
keeping. I  have  no  other  family,  no  other  ties  on  my  heart, 
dear  Marian;  which  is  all  yours  if  you  will  accept  it,  and 
make  a  lonely  man  happy." 

Then,  amid  all  the  perturbations  of  mind  which  this  meet- 
ing and  this  declaration  caused  the  young  girl,  there  stole  up, 
as  from  a  confused,  smouldering  mass  it  was  destmcd  to 
cover,  if  not  consume,  the  flame  of  a  secret  joy.  Her  spirit 
flew  on  wings  of  trembling  and  delight  to  her  mother,  as 
she  asked  for  time  to  consider  so  serious  and  unexpected  a 
proposal, 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Daskill,  pausing  a  little  at  the  gate. 
"Only  assure  me  of  one  thing,  —  that  this  dear  hand  is  not 
pledged  to  any  one  else." 

"Oh,  no!  it  is  not,"  said  Marian. 

She  was  terrified  at  the  lie  the  moment  it  was  spoken.  But 
what  else  could  she  have  said  ?  And  when,  reaching  the 
entrj^-way,  she  permitted  the  lips  which  another  had  just 
pressed,  to  be  ravished  by  this  man's  turbulent  kiss,  what 
else  could  she  do .'' 

She  hastened  to  her  mother,  and  fell  upon  her  neck,  and 
sobbed  out  the  story,  —  her  half-promise  to  Will  Rayburn, 
which  he  took  for  a  whole  promise,  and  then  Mr.  Daskill's 
proposal ;  with  all  about  the  summer  residence  here  and  the 
winter  residence  there,  and  the  aunt  of  cultivated  manners, 


TEMPTED    BY    A    RING.  1 49 

and  the  home  of  refinement  and  kixury  for  which  a  first-class 
female  ornament  was  required.  To  all  which  that  fond 
mother  and  altogether  excellent  woman  listened,  wonder- 
stricken,  forgetting  her  recent  heat  and  chill  and  mortification 
of  spirit  in  the  triumph  of  knowing  that  the  splendid  gold- 
fish she  had  so  hopefully  angled  for  was  at  last  caught. 

As  for  Will  Rayburn,  it  was  a  pity;  Marian  had  been  very 
indiscreet.  "  But  don't  be  troubled,"  quoth  the  jubilant 
mamma ;  "  I  can  manage  that." 

"Just  after  he  had  become  converted,"  said  sweet  Marian, 
ruefully. 

"I'm  glad  he  has  been,"  Mrs.  Fenway  replied.  "His 
religion  will,  I  hope,  be  a  comfort  to  him  now.  It  was 
through  your  instrumentality  that  he  met  with  a  change  ;  and 
you  must  let  that  comfort  you." 

"  But  Mr.  Daskill  is  not  a  religious  man." 

"As  for  that,  we  will  hope  for  the  best.  You  have  led 
one  sinner  to  see  the  error  of  his  ways,  and  you  may  another. 
You  may  be  the  means  of  bringing  Mr.  Daskill  into  the 
fold." 

As  the  mother  spoke,  the  daughter  saw  once  more  the  look 
of  disgust  and  pitying  scorn  on  Will's  face,  and  she  cried  out, 
with  shame  and  tears,  imploringly,  "  O  mother,  mother,  don't 
let  me  do  anything  mean  or  Avicked !     I  am  afraid  of  myself." 

"Well,  well!"  said  Mrs.  Fenway,  soothingly,  ''I  don't 
wonder  you  are  a  good  deal  exercised  in  your  mind,  after 
what  you  have  gone  through.  But  I  will  see  to  it  that  every- 
thing is  made  right.  Is  he  in  the  parlor  ?  I  suppose  he  will 
be  expecting  to  see  me.  So  go  down  and  keep  him  company 
till  I  come.  Of  course  you  will  accept  him  ;  I  consider  that 
as  settled.  But  put  him  off  for  a  few  days :  that  will  make 
him  respect  and  like  you  all  the  more." 

Knowing  that  Miss  Fenway  would  consult  her  mother, 
Mr.  Daskill  felt  that  his  suit  was  won.     He  was  hungry  to 


150  farnell's  folly. 

devour  this  fresh  young  heart,  and  his  feeling  of  triumph  was 
scarcely  less  than  that  of  the  wary  mother  herself.  He  sat 
turning  over  the  leaves  of  an  annual,  but  seeing  never  a 
jDicture  and  reading  never  a  word,  —  seeing  only  the  picture 
of  youth  and  loveliness  that  had  just  gone  from  him,  and 
reading  a  bright  page  in  the  great  mystic  volume  of  the 
future,  when  he  was  interrupted  by  a  seemingly  trivial  but 
ver}'  memorable  circumstance. 

"Here's  something  b'longs  to  you,  sir,  I  guess,"  said  a 
mellow,  girlish  voice.  And  looking  up,  he  saw  black  Nance 
holding  between  thumb  and  finger  a  gold  ring. 

"  I  think  not,"  said  Adolphus.     "Where  did  you  get  it?  " 
"  Mis'  Lorkins  picked  it  up  off  'm  her  floor  after  you  left. 
She  said  you  lost  it  when  you  peeled  off  your  glove.'' 
"  I  've  lost  no  ring.     Why  did  she  think  it  was  mine  ?  " 
"  Coz  it 's  got  the  fust  letters  of  your  name    in   it,"    said 
Nance.     "  But  if  't  aint  yourn,  then  maybe  I  can  have  it." 

"  Give  it  to  me  !  "  said  Adolphus,  growing  interested  ;  and 
Nance  reluctantly  put  it  into  his  hand. 

He  examined  it  closely,  the  hue  of  his  countenance  chan- 
ging to  a  dull,  lurid  purple  (the  only  color  he  ever  blushed,  for 
he  never  blushed  except  from  violent  emotions)  as  he  recog- 
nized the  fashion  of  the  ring  and  the  engraved  initials.  The 
man  whom  few  things  in  the  world  could  astonish  was  much 
astonished  then. 

The  rush  of  dark  blood  to  his  face  soon  subsided,  however, 
and  he  began  to  question  Nance.  She  thought  he  suspected 
the  temptation  to  steal  the  ring  which  had  beset  her,  and  ren- 
dered the  mystery  more  mysterious  by  her  confused  answers. 
At  last,  greatly  to  her  disappointment,  and  regret  for  her  own 
unrewarded  honesty,  she  saw  him  quietly  put  the  ring  in  his 
pocket. 

"  'T  wa'n't  hisn,  no  how !  it 's  too  little  to  go  on  to  his 
littlest  finger,"  she  muttered  to  herself  as  she  went  out. 


TEMPTED    BY   A    RING.  I5I 

He  was  turning  over  the  leaves  of  the  annual  again,  but  as 
soon  as  he  was  alone,  he  once  more  took  out  the  ring,  and 
regarded  it  with  a  darkly  troubled  look.  To  many  a  man's 
character  there  is  an  occult  side,  undiscemed  by  the  world, 
perhaps  unsuspected  by  his  most  intimate  friends.  Of  that 
side  of  Adolphus,  Marian  would  have  had  an  interesting 
glimpse,  had  she  seen  him  then. 

Presently  she  came  in,  rosy  and  smiling  as  any  sweet 
May  morning ;  and  Adolphus  greeted  her  with  cloudless, 
serene,  lover-like  aspect ;  each  concealing  carefully  from  the 
other  what  was  gnawing  the  heart  of  each.  For  thus  it  is  the 
plavers  meet  on  the  great  stage  of  the  world,  and  thus  they 
plight  their  troths,  and  thus  they  wed. 


152  farnell's  folly. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


A    BRIGHT    BUBBLE    BURSTS, 


With  his  last  interview  with  Marian  to  remember,  and  the 
promised  one  to  look  forward  to,  what  a  happy  wight  was 
Will !  The  intervening  time  swelled  up  from  the  troubled  sea 
of  those  days  like  an  enchanted  island,  with  the  bloom  of  per- 
petual dawn  upon  it,  and  visited  by  heavenly  airs.  A  soft 
spiritual  glow  surrounded  him,  like  that  which  colors  the  world 
to  the  poet  in  his  high  and  happy  moods.  He  saw  everything 
in  the  beautiful  light  which  hij  own  joy  beamed  upon  it. 
His  heart  overflowed  with  quick  sympathies  for  every  living 
creature, — the  men  and  women  he  met,  the  merry  school- 
children, the  doves  cooing  on  the  roof,  the  oxen  drinking  at 
the  roadside  trough.  His  glorious,  glad  faith  was  restored  ; 
and  now  a  constant  incense  of  thankfulness  went  up  from  his 
heart  to  the  Author  of  life,  with  a  constant  prayer  that  he 
might  be  made  good  and  pure  enough  to  be  worthy  of  her 
for  whom  he  would  have  thought  it  bliss  any  moment  to  die, 
if  to  live  for  her  had  not  seemed  so  much  greater  bliss.  Is 
it  not  worth  the  while  to  be  happy  once  in  one's  life,  if  only 
for  a  day  ? 

Saturday  morning  came,  —  a  beautiful  spring-like  morning. 
The  bluebirds,  earliest  comers,  sang  in  the  orchard,  and  the 
first  rays  of  the  sun,  shining  through  the  window-blinds  of 
Will's  room,  ruled  the  white  curtains  with  gold.  He  thought 
it  a  good  omen,  and,  throwing  up  the  sash,  pushed  open  the 
blinds  for  a  broader  view  of  the  sunrise  glory.  Even  while  he 
did  so  the  world  suddenly  grew  dark,  and  he  looked  out  on  a 
whirling  snow-squall ;  for  it  was  fickle  March  weather. 


A    BRIGHT    BUBBLE    BURSTS.  153 

Sun  and  squall  alternated  until  the  afternoon;  when, 
promptly  at  the  appointed  hour,  Will,  this  time  without  his 
crutch,  limped  into  Lottie's  little  sitting-room.  Mrs.  Chilgrove 
received  hmi  with  just  a  bow  of  recognition,  and  sat  silent, 
with  her  customary  sewing  in  hand. 

"Where  's  Mrs.  Lorkins?"  Will  inquired. 

"She  has  gone  up  to  her  mother's,"  Mrs.  Chilgrove  replied. 

Stitch,  stitch.  Will  looked  expectantly  from  the  window, 
beginning  to  grow  anxious.  Then  he  asked  how  long  Lottie 
had  been  gone,  and  when  she  would  probably  return,  and  got 
indennite  replies  from  the  coldly  civil  needle-woman.  Some 
minutes  passed.  Then  the  door  opened,  and  the  oldest  of 
the  three  Wintergeen  spinsters  looked  in,  from  the  other  part 
of  the  house. 

"Good  afternoon,  Miss  Abby,"  said  Will. 

"  Oh  !  excuse  me  !  I  was  n't  aware  !''  said  Miss  Abby  as  if 
conscious  of  having  done  something  highly  improper.  "I 
wished  to  see  —  but  no  matter." 

"  Mrs.  Lorkins  is  out,"  said  Mrs.  Chilgrove  in  her  coldest 
and  most  impassive  tones. 

"  Oh  !  indeed  !  Pardon  the  intrusion  !''  And  Miss  Abby 
withdrew. 

"  She  was  not  supposed  to  know  that  Lottie  was  out  and 
somebody  else  was  in,"  remarked  Mrs.  Chilgrove  icily. 

Another  silence.  Still  no  Lottie,  and  no  Marian.  Will 
\va.s  in  no  mood  for  talking  ;  and  the  lady,  though  serene  and 
unembarrassed,  was  altogether  too  modest  and  retiring  to 
lead  a  conversation.  Then  suddenly  the  door  opened  again, 
and  another  of  the  antique  Graces  looked  in. 

"Oh!  excuse  me!"  said  Eliza  Ann,  glasses  glimmering, 
curls  shaking,  and  face  simpering  with  confusion  at  sight  of 
a  gentleman  and  lady  alone  together.     "Is  Mrs.  Lorkins—" 

"  Mrs.  Lorkins  happens  to  be  out  at  this  moment,"  said 
Mrs.  Chilgrove. 


154  farnell's  folly. 

"  Oh  !  indeed  !  I  was  n't  aware  !"  And  Grace  number  two 
retired, 

A  half-hour  had  soon  passed.  Still  neither  Lottie  nor 
Marian  appeared.  Then  again  the  door  opened,  without  the 
slightest  premonitory  sound,  more  than  if  a  cat  had  ap- 
proached it,  and  the  third  pair  of  spectacles  looked  in, 

"  Oh  !  bless  me  !"  said  Maria.  "  I  was  — I  thought  Mrs. 
Lorkins  —  has  n't  she  returned  ?     A  thousand  pardons  !" 

"  Delightful  neighbors !"  said  Mrs.  Chilgrove,  as  the  door 
closed  again.  "  Of  course  they  have  no  curiosity  whatever 
about  anybody  but  Mrs.  Lorkins.  And  what  charming  free- 
dom  of  manners,  —  to  open  doors  in  this  way,  without  the  for- 
mality of  knocking!" 

"Their  world  is  very  narrow,"  said  Will.  "They  haven't 
much  to  occupy  their  minds  or  engage  their  affections.  They 
are  good-hearted  creatures,  though  ;  and  one  can  excuse  in 
them  what  would  be  insufferable  in  most  people." 

The  lady  gave  William  a  still,  penetrating  look.  "  You  are 
very  charitable,"  she  said,  with  softening  glance  and  tone. 

"It  isn't  that,"  he  replied;  "but  I  know  a  good  deal  of 
these  girls.  They  were  belles  of  the  village  thirty  years  ago. 
They  had  a  little  property,  just  enough  to  live  on,  which  they 
were  afraid  of  losing;  and  that  prevented  them  from  accept- 
ing several  poor  young  men  who  wanted  to  marry  them.  The 
poor  young  men  found  other  wives,  and  two  of  them  at  least 
became  rich.  In  the  mean  while  the  Wintergreen  sisters 
ceased  to  be  belles,  and  settled  down  into  these  forlorn,  fan- 
tastic, spectacled,  ringleted  spinsters  you  see.  For  my  part, 
I  pity  them.  I  don't  wonder  that  they  are  curious,  and  love 
a  bit  of  gossip.  The  soul  must  feed  on  such  miserable  husks, 
if  it  has  nothing  better." 

As  Will  spoke,  the  lady  regarded  him  steadily  and  earnestly 
over  her  work,  which  she  had  dropped  in  her  lap. 

"  I  shall  think  better  of  them  after  this,"  she  said.  "  I 
thank  you  for  the  lesson." 


A    BRIGHT    BUBBLE   BURSTS.  1 55 

"  Pardon  me;  I  did  n't  mean  it  for  a  lesson.  Their  conduct 
must  appear  ridiculous  and  offensive  enough  to  a  stranger. 
But  the  more  we  know  of  the  real  history  and  motives  of  such 
persons,  —  indeed,  of  any  persons  we  dislike  or  condemn, — 
the  more  tolerant  it  makes  us  of  their  faults,  which  are  often 
only  their  misfortunes." 

The  lady's  eyes  dilated  with  a  wonderfully  intense,  search- 
ing look,  as  they  still  rested  on  him.  Then,  after  a  pause, 
she  said, — 

"You  interest  me.  You  are  different  from  most  men.  You 
are  capable  of  being  a  true  friend.  I  cannot  bear  that  you 
should  be  deceived  as  you  are.  Will  you  let  me  tell  you  some- 
thing which  belongs  to  you  to  know  ? " 

"What  have  you  to  tell  me  ?"  said  Will,  with  quick  alarm. 

"You  have  come  expecting  to  meet  Miss  Fenway.  Do  not 
expect  her  any  more  :  she  will  not  come." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  After  you  went  out  from  here  the  other  day,  the  gentleman 
from  Buffalo  came  in." 

"Mr.  Daskell.?"  said  Will,  turning  pale. 

"  I  believe  that  is  his  name.  I  saw  by  her  agitation  how 
she  regarded  him.  They  went  away  together.  Her  sister 
has  learned  since  that  he  proposed  marriage  to  her  on  the 
way  home." 

"  But  she  —  she  can't  even  listen  to  such  a  proposal ! " 

"  She  has  listened  to  it.  You  don't  know  the  world  ;  you 
don't  know  women,"  Mrs.  Chilgrove  replied.  "  Personal  in- 
terest is  the  rule  of  life  everj^vhere.  A  man  doesm  business 
what  he  believes  will  be  for  his  ultimate  advantage,  does  n't 
he  ?  So  in  politics.  Even  in  religion,  all  the  piet}'  most 
people  have  is  a  selfish  desire  to  save  their  souls.  Don't 
blame  a  young  girl  because  she  is  governed  by  the  same 
motives." 

"This  is  a  horrible  view  of  life  !"  said  Will.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  it  was  his  cynical  old  uncle  talking. 


156  farnell's  folly. 

"  Yes;  all  the  more  so  because  it  is  true." 

"  It  is  a  false  view,  Mrs.  Chilgrove.  The  world  is  not  so 
bad  as  that.  Selfishness  enough  I  know  there  is ;  but  I  know 
that  there  is  truth  in  men  and  women,  —  a  dismterested  love 
of  the  good  and  the  right." 

These  words  came  glowing  from  the  young  man's  heart. 

"  I  thought  once  as  you  do,"  the  lady  tranquilly  replied. 
"  It  is  a  beautiful  faith.  Cultivate  it,  keep  it  if  you  can  , 
but  be  prepared.  If  Miss  Fenway  thinks  love  in  a  cottage 
the  most  desirable  thing  in  life,  she  will  probably  choose  you. 
If  she  is  convinced  that  pride  in  a  palace  is  preferable,  she 
will  choose  another.  Pure,  unselfish  regard  for  either  of  you 
will  have  nothing  to  do  with  her  choice.  She  will  sacrifice 
you,  or  she  will  sacrifice  him,  indifferently." 

Will  wiped  his  hot  brow.  In  his  earnestness  he  even  rose 
upon  his  feet, 

"It  is  infidelity, — it  is  the  worst  kind  of  infidelity  you 
preach  ! '' 

The  lady  smiled,  with  a  marvellous  still  brightness  m  her 
eyes  and  just  the  slightest  curl  of  calm  disdain  on  her  lips. 

"  I  do  not  preach  anything.  I  wished  simply  to  tell  you 
the  truth,  to  prepare  you  for  what  is  certain  to  come.  I  do 
not  say  there  are  no  exceptions  to  the  rule  of  self-interest. 
You  are  an  exception.     Miss  Fenway  is  not." 

"  There  's  Lottie  !  "  exclaimed  Will.  "  I  shall  know  some- 
thmg  now." 

"  She  does  n't  bring  very  good  news  in  her  face,"  observed 
Mrs.  Chilgrove. 

"  A  letter ! "  said  Will,  as  Lottie  entered,  and,  with  a  sad 
look,  placed  a  note  in  his  hand. 

He  tore  it  open,  and  read :  — 

"  Win :  —  In  reflecting  upon  7vhat  happened  when  we  saw  each 
other  las  ty  I  have  feared  that  you  quite  misunderstood  something  I 


A    BRIGHT    BUBBLE    BURSTS.  1 5/ 

said,  you  took  it  so  much  more  seriously  than  I  intended  it.  I 
ought  to  have  set  you  right  at  the  time  ;  but  I  felt  so  much  sympa- 
thy for  you,  and  you  agitated  me  so,  that  I  was  really  tiot  myself. 
The  recollectiofi  of  this  has  been  a  source  of  such  grief  to  me  since 
that  I  must  beg  you  to  forget  what  passed  at  that  interview,  and 
not  try  to  see  me  again  until  we  are  both  iviser  and  sfrofiger. 
Will,  it  afflicts  me  to  give  you  pain.  I  could  fiot  bring  myself  to 
do  it  until  the  last  moment.  Remember  that  I  too  suffer ;  but 
belirce  with  me  that  in  the  end  all  will  be  for  the  best.     Good  by. 

"  Marian." 

Will  read  or  seemed  to  read  the  letter  a  long  time,  his  eyes 
wandering  over  it  mistily,  and  his  features  settling  gradually 
into  an  expression  of  deep  and  powerful  calm. 

"  It  is  all  over,"  he  said  ,  and,  tearing  the  letter,  he  cast 
the  fragments  into  the  fire. 

They  flashed  up  into  a  quick  flame  and  vanished. 


158  farnell's  folly. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

WILL    LOSES    HIS   SITUATION. 

This  time  the  foundations  of  the  young  man's  faith  were 
not  shaken,  but  deepened  and  strengthened.  Out  of  suffer- 
ing and  renunciation  came,  if  not  happiness,  a  clear  percep- 
tion of  duty  and  a  mighty  power  of  will.  What  Mrs.  Chil- 
grove  had  said  might  be  true  of  men  and  the  churches ,  of 
man  and  the  church  it  was  the  reverse  of  true. 

"  I  will  stand  for  7nan^  even  if  alone  in  the  world  ! "  he 
vowed  to  himself;  not  egotistically,  but  from  an  overwhelm- 
ing conviction  of  the  hoUowness  and  vanity  of  everything  \\\ 
life  that  did  not  centre  in  truth  and  brotherly  love. 

All  the  remainder  of  that  day  and  night,  and  the  Sunday 
which  followed,  he  spent  in  solitary  thought.  Sunday  night 
he  slept  tranquilly  and  long,  and  awoke  afterwards  calm  and 
refreshed.  At  breakfast  he  told  his  mother  that  he  was  going 
to  the  store. 

"Why  need  you?"  she  remonstrated.  "You  know  Mr. 
Daskill  said  your  pay  was  to  go  on  the  same." 

"  For  that  reason  I  must  be  at  my  post  as  soon  as  possible. 
I  shall  not  be  able  to  stand  on  my  foot  much ;  but  I  can  do 
something." 

"  Oh  now !  I  think  you  are  very  unwise." 

"  Mother,"  Will  replied,  with  perfect  respect  and  gentleness, 
"  I  am  wiser  than  you.  Let  that  be  understood ;  and  what- 
ever I  may  do  henceforth,  do  not  question  or  oppose  me." 

Reporting  for  duty  at  the  store,  he  noticed  that  Mr.  Em- 
mons was  cool  to  him.     Nevertheless,  he  cheerfully  took  his 


WILL   LOSES    HIS    SITUATION.  1 59 

old  place  behind  the  counter,  and  managed  to  wait  upon  such 

customers  as  came.  All  were  glad  to  see  him  back  again ; 
for  the  frank  and  obliging  manners  of  the  young  salesman 
had  made  him  a  favorite  with  all  who  frequented  the  store. 

Early  in  the  forenoon,  Grand-Seigneur  Daskill  appeared. 
He  had  not  yet  been  formally  accepted  by  Miss  Fenway  ; 
and  at  sight  of  his  rival,  fresh,  and  active  on  his  feet  once 
more,  I  hardly  know  what  his  emotions  may  have  been.  He 
knew  how  susceptible  Miss  Fenway  was,  and  had  to  acknowl- 
edge to  himself  that  this  fellow  was  deucedly  good-lookmg, 
besides  being  at  least  fifteen  years  younger  than  himself. 

But  Adolphus  was  a  person  of  tact  and  gentlemanly 
manners. 

"  Ah,  William  !  "  he  said,  in  his  large,  flowing  way,  "glad 
to  see  you  !     I  hope  you  have  n't  got  out  too  soon." 

"  I  think  not,"  said  Will. 

"Well,  take  it  easy;  health  and  comfort  before  ever}'thing." 
And  the  Grand  Seigneur  passed  on  into  the  counting-room, 
with  Mr.  Emmons. 

After  awhile  he  came  out  again,  and  said  to  William,  in  the 
presence  of  customers  (a  little  audience  always  served  as  in- 
spiration to  the  large-mmded,  generous  Adolphus),  — 

"  I  'm  concerned  about  that  ankle.  Don't  be  on  it  too 
much,  my  lad.  I  'm  going  to  Buffalo  this  afternoon,  and  I 
intend  to  bring  down  a  horse  and  carriage  in  a  few  days, 
when  I  shall  insist  on  your  having  some  rides.  The  horse 
will  need  the  exercise,  and  so  will  you  while  your  foot  is 
healing." 

The  liberal,  whole-souled  man  !  It  seemed  a  wonder  that 
Will  was  not  more  impressed  by  his  kindness,  and  that  he  did 
not  thank  him  more  profusely. 

In  the  afternoon  Mrs.  Wetherspun  came  to  buy  some  cot- 
ton cloth.  Since  Ward  Farnell  left  the  business,  she  never 
traded  with  anybody  but  William,  if  she  could  help  u  ;  "  that 


i6o  farnell's  folly. 

smooth-tongued  Emmons  was  so  disagreeable  !  "  and  she  de- 
tested "them  snipper-snapper  boys."  But  William  Rayburn 
was  always  ready  to  show  her  things,  and  "  talk  'em  over," 
which  was  what  she  liked. 

"  Now,  William,"  said  she,  having  looked  at  two  or  three 
kinds  of  cloth,  and  learned  the  prices,  "  have  ye  got  anything 
different  ? " 

"  Yes ;  we  have  this."  And  William  tumbled  a  heavy  roll 
on  the  counter. 

Quality  and  price  seemed  to  please  good  Mrs.  Wetherspun. 
"  Why  did  n't  ye  show  me  this  before  ?     It 's  the  best  of  the 
lot,  and  the  cheapest,  too !  " 

"  I  think  it  is  the  poorest  and  dearest." 
"William  Rayburn!"  exclaimed  the  customer,  with  a 
scowl.  "  I  alluz  thought  your  judgment  was  toler'ble  good, 
and  you  never  tried  to  deceive  me,  as  I  know  on ;  but  jest 
look  at  it !  Any  gump  can  see  that  this  cloth  is  heavier  an' 
whiter  'n'  t'  other  at  the  same  price." 

"  It  looks  so  ;  but  it  is  not  what  it  appears.  I  did  n't  show 
it  to  you  before  because  I  'm  not  willing  to  sell  you  for  cloth 
what  is  not  cloth." 

Mrs.  Wetherspun  looked  at  the  stuff  again,  and  then  at 
William,  in  sour-faced  astonishment. 

"  You  mean  to  tell  me  this  ain't  cloth,  when  I  've  got  eyes 
of  my  own  in  my  head  ! " 

"  There  is  a  foundation  of  cloth  ,  the  rest  is  something  else. 
See  here,  Mrs.  Wetherspun." 

William  rubbed  smartly  a  corner  of  the  piece.  A  white  dust 
flew,  and  the  fabric,  before  solid  and  stiff  in  appearance,  be- 
came loose  and  flimsy. 

"  Massy  sakes !  Ward  Farnell  never  had  no  sich  stuff  as 
that  in  his  store." 

"  Yes,  he  had  once  -,  and  my  mother  bought  some  of  it. 
She  set  out  to  make  it  up  before  washing  it  •  but  it  dulled 


WILL    LOSES    HIS    SITUATION.  l6l 

her  needles,  and  broke  them.  Then  she  boiled  it,  and  found 
that  only  a  sleazy  remnant  remained  ;  a  good  part  of  it  had 
washed  away." 

"  Do  tell  me  !  "  said  the  amazed  Mrs.  Wetherspun.  "  How 
do  they  make  it .''  " 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what  little  I  know  of  it,"  replied  William. 
"  It  is  pretty  fair  cloth  when  it  comes  from  the  factory,  but  it 
has  not  been  whitened,  and  there  is  not  nearly  so  much  of  it. 
The  wholesale  jobber  sends  it  to  a  bleacher}- :  it  is  not  only  to 
be  bleached,  but  it  must  be  made  to  measure  more.  Besides 
the  singeing,  and  soaking,  and  churning  in  the  dash-weel,  and 
boiling  in  lime-water,  and  steeping  in  chloride  of  lime,  —  be- 
sides this  and  the  other  treatment  it  gets,  in  the  way  of  bleach- 
ing, it  is  put  upon  frames  and  stretched.  The  bleaching 
process  reduces  the  weight  of  a  yard  of  cloth  a  little  ;  the 
stretching  reduces  it  a  great  deal.  After  a  yard  has  been  ex- 
tended so  as  to  measure  a  yard  and  a  quarter,  more  or  less,  it 
is  so  thin  that  an  experienced  housekeeper,  like  you,  Mrs. 
Wetherspun,  would  n't  look  twice  at  it.  So,  to  restore  the  lost 
weight,  and  put,  so  to  speak,  flesh  on  the  skeleton,  it  is  passed 
through  a  sticky  porridge  of  white  clay,  and  I  don't  know 
'  what  other  substances.  Then,  nicely  calendered,  it  goes  back 
to  the  jobber.  From  the  jobber  it  goes  to  the  retailer:  and 
from  the  retailer  to  you,  Mrs.  Wetherspun,  if  you  want  it." 

"  And  when  I  think  I  'm  buyin'  cloth,  I  'm  buyin'  clay  ! 
William  Raybum,  it  don't  seem  possible,  in  a  Christian  age 
like  this." 

"  The  last  time  I  was  in  Buffalo,"  replied  Will,  '•  I  had  the 
curiosity  to  go  out  and  visit  a  bleacher}-  that  extends  cloth  in 
this  way.  The  manager  was  charmingly  frank  with  me  when 
I  asked  him  why  the  cloth  was  stretched.  He  smiled  at  my 
simplicity,  and  said,  'To  make  more  of  it.'  Then  when  I 
asked  why  it  was  loaded  with  earthy  material,  he  replied, 
'  Forics  like  to  think  they  are  buying  a  strong,  heavy  kind  of 


i62  farnell's  follv. 

cloth.'  'Bui,'  I  said,  '  they're  buying  clay!'  'That's  their 
lookout,'  said  he.  Mrs.  Wetherspun,  we  must  n't  expect  too 
much  of  this  Christian  age.  When  I  came  home,  I  talked 
with  Mr.  Farnell  about  it,  and  he  declared  no  more  of  that 
cloth  should  ever  come  into  this  store.  It  is  here  again, —  by 
some  mistake,  I  trust.  I  am  here  to  sell  it ;  but  whoever  buys 
it  cf  mo,  — or  buys  anything  else  of  me,  —  shall  know  what  I 
am  selling,  if  I  know  it  myself." 

Mrs.  Wetherspun  concluded  to  purchase  some  strong,  un- 
bleached cloth,  which  William  thought  the  best  of  any  for  her 
purpose,  and  went  away,  "  thankful  enough,"  as  she  declared, 
"  that  she  had  n't  been  cheated  into  breakin'  her  needles  and 
tryin'  to  make  shirts  for  her  husband  out  of  clay." 

That  evening,  when  William  had  put  on  his  coat  to  go 
home,  Mr.  Emmons  called  him  into  the  counting-room. 

"  I  'm  afraid,"  said  the  head  clerk,  "  that  attendance  in  the 
store  is  too  hard  on  your  lame  foot,  and  I  've  concluded  to  dis- 
pense with  your  services." 

"  You  need  n't  put  it  sarcastically,  Mr.  Emmons,"  William 
replied.     "  If  you  mean  that  I  am  discharged,  say  just  that." 

"  Well,  I  say  just  that,  then,"  said  Mr.  Emmons  shortly. 

"  And  don't  lay  any  more  to  my  lame  foot  than  it  deserves. 
I  shall  be  asked  the  reason  for  my  discharge,  and  I  should 
like  to  know  it  myself." 

"  You  don't  suit  us.     That 's  all." 

"You  and  I,  Mr.  Emmons,  have  always  got  along  well 
together  until  now.  I  must  infer,  then,  that  I  don't  suit  Mr. 
Daskill.  You  are  his  thermometer;  I  felt  your  mercury 
very  low  towards  me  when  I  came  in  this  morning.  He  was 
unnecessarily  cordial,  or  perhaps  I  should  say  patronizing; 
but  he  talked  very  differently  with  you  in  this  room.  You 
have  been  waiting  for  a  pretext  to  get  rid  of  me.  You 
did  n't  have  to  wait  long.  I  was  not  pleased  to  see  that  sham 
cotton  on  the   shelves  again  ;   and  I  was   willing   that  you 


WILL    LOSES    HIS    SITUATION.  163 

should  overhear  what  I  said  of  it  to  Mrs.  Wetherspun.  In- 
deed, if  false  fabrics  like  that  are  to  be  in  the  store  to  be  sold 
as  true  fabrics,  I  prefer  to  be  out  of  it." 

"It  is  not  becoming  in  a  salesman  to  abuse,  in  the  presence 
of  customers,  goods  they  have  come  to  purchase,"  said  Mr. 
Emmons  nervously. 

"  It  is  not  becoming  in  any  man,"  William  answered 
calmly,  "  to  act  a  lie.  That  is  what  you  do  when  you  allow 
such  goods  to  pass  over  your  counter.  That  is  what  you  are 
doing  now  in  dealing  with  me.  You  dare  not  give  me  your 
true  reason  for  sending  me  off.  You  don't  respect  me  less 
because  I  told  a  customer  that  one  piece  of  goods  was  a 
cheat,  and  sold  her  another  which  I  believed  to  be  worth  her 
money.  And  you  know  that  in  a  business  like  this,  fair  deal- 
ing is  as  much  for  the  advantage  of  the  store,  in  the  long  run, 
as  it  is  for  that  of  the  customer." 

William  paused,  to  compel  an  answer.  Mr.  Emmons  was 
much  flushed,  and  his  white  fingers  trembled  as  he  counted 
som.e  money  on  the  desk. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  after  a  pause,  "  as  you  say,  William,  my 
feeling  toward  you  has  always  been  friendly." 

"  I  think  so,"  said  William.  "  So  it  comes  down  to  this  : 
I  was  to  be  discharged.  Mr.  Daskill  didn't  care  to  assume 
the  responsibility  of  an  act  which,  under  the  circumstances, 
could  n't  reflect  much  honor  on  himself  ;  so  he  shifts  it  upon 
you." 

"Why  should  he  want  to  get  rid  of  you?"  Mr.  Emmons 
asked. 

William  smiled.  "If  you  do  not  guess  the  reason  now, 
you  will  when  the  promised  horse  and  carriage  come.  They 
are  not  to  take  me  to  ride.  But  he  might  have  spared  you 
this  pain,  —  for  I  really  believe  it  gives  you  pain,  Mr.  Em- 
mons, to  do  me  this  injustice.  It  was  not  necessary  to  reduce 
me  to  a  poor  young  man,  out  of  business  and  without  pros- 


164  farnell's  folly. 

pects ;  I  should  not  have  been  long  in  his  way.  But  I  sup- 
pose it  would  n't  be  pleasant  for  him  to  see  me  constantly,  as 
he  would  have  to  if  I  remained  his  clerk.  I  can't  blame 
him.  And  I  shall  not  cherish  the  least  ill-feeling  towards 
you,  Mr.  Emmons.     Is  this  my  pay  ?  " 

The  head  clerk  pushed  the  money  towards  him.  After  a 
glance  at  it,  William  said,  "This  is  all  that  is  due  me  ?  " 

"  You  have  been  absent  some  three  weeks,  you  remember," 
Mr.  Emmons  replied. 

William  smiled  again.  "I  have  reason  to  remember! 
Curiously,  I  dreamed  that  Mr.  Daskill  came  and  said  to  me 
that  my  pay  should  go  on  the  same  while  I  was  laid  up  with 
a  lame  foot  got  in  that  way.  I  hardly  expected  that  such  a 
dream  would  come  true;  and  I  am  better  satisfied  not  io  be 
paid  for  those  three  weeks.  Mr.  Emmons,  I  hope  we  part 
good  friends." 

"Yes,  William,"  said  the  head  clerk  tremulously.  "  And  I 
am  sorry  for  you." 

"Oh,  don't  be  sorry  for  me !"  replied  William  frankly  and 
cheerfully.  "  The  earning  of  a  few  dollars  is  a  small  matter, 
and  time  is  very  short.  But  a  man's  integrity  and  self-respect 
are  not  small  matters.  Did  you  ever  thmk  of  it,  Mr.  Em- 
mons ?  I  should  be  sorry  for  myself  if  I  stayed  and  compro- 
mised mine  ;  just  as  I  am  sorry  —  sincerely  sorry  —  for  you. 
Shall  we  shake  hands,  Mr.  Emmons  ?  " 

This  was  a  turn  of  affairs  which  the  autocratic  head  clerk 
—  invested  with  "full  powers"  in  the  Grand  Seigneur's 
absence  —  had  not  anticipated.  Instead  of  maintaming  his 
proudly  superior  position,  he  found  himself  humbled  and 
abashed  in  the  presence  of  this  strong,  kind,  unresentful,  cour- 
ageous youth.  He  shook  the  proffered  hand  with  a  few 
feeble,  deprecatory  words,  and  William  went  out  to  take  leave 
of  the  boys. 


LEAVE-TAKINGS.  1 6$ 


CHAPTER   XIX. 


LEAVE-TAKINGS. 


William  did  not  tell  his  mother  what  had  happened  until 
they  sat  together  at  breakfast  the  next  morning. 

"  I  suppose  you  will  have  your  own  way,"  she  said  queru- 
lously, "  and  go  to  the  store  again,  now  you  have  begun." 

"  No,  mother,"  William  replied.  "  I  am  not  going  to  the 
store  to-day." 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  rather  surprised  than  pleased,  after  all. 
She  liked  to  have  something  to  complain  of  ;  and,  really  con- 
vinced that  he  was  in  the  right  the  day  before,  she  was  sorry 
to  have  gained  her  point.  "  You  found  it  too  much  for  your 
foot,  did  n't  you  ?     Does  your  pay  go  on  the  same  ?  " 

This  was  a  very  important  question  with  Widow  Rayburn. 

"  No,  mother,  my  pay  does  n't  go  on  at  all.  It  has  n't  gone 
on  for  the  past  three  weeks.  We  were  quite  mistaken 
about  it." 

"  But,  my  son,"  she  exclaimed,  "  Mr.  Daskill,  he  said —  " 

"Mr.  Daskill  is  a  man  of  fine  words,  mother.  There  is  an 
old  saying  about  fine  words.  In  short,  mother,  I  don't  suit 
Mr.  Daskill,  and  I  am  discharged.'' 

The  widow  set  down  her  teacup,  and  stared  at  her  son  with 
as  much  consternation  as  if  he  had  told  her  that  the  store  with 
all  its  contents  had  been  swallowed  by  an  earthquake. 

"  You  don't  mean  you  are  turned  off  ? " 

"  Yes,  mother,  I  mean  precisely  that.     Now  don't  let  this 
little  matter  trouble  you,  and  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it." 
"'The   thin,  white   face   under   the   widow's   plain    cap   and 
scanty  gray  hair  grew  thinner  and  whiter  than  ever  as  she 


1 66  farnell's  folly. 

listened  to  her  son's  ston',  and  appeared  all  in  a  tremor  of 
tearful  emotion  at  its  close. 

"A  little  matter,  my  son  !  "  she  repeated,  wiping  her  eyes. 
"  To  lose  your  situation,  and  be  thrown  out  of  employment 
for  nobody  knows  how  long !  It  does  seem  to  me  it  might 
have  been  avoided.  Why  should  you  have  interfered  if  the 
store  had  such  goods  to  sell,  and  Mrs.  Wetherspun  came 
to  buy  ?  Who  is  she  that  you  should  lose  your  place  on  her 
account  .■' " 

"  You  seem  to  have  forgotten  how  you  felt  when  j'l?//  bought 
some  of  that  kind  of  cloth  and  tried  to  use  it,"  replied 
William.  "  I  did  by  her  as  I  would  have  had  any  honest 
clerk  do  by  you.  I  know  a  little  cloth  isn't  of  much  impor- 
tance ;  and  I  don't  care  particularly  for  Mrs.  Wetherspun. 
But  I  once  had  a  vision  of  something  that  seemed  to  me 
exceedingly  important ;  and  it  was  neither  cloth  nor  week's 
wages,  nor  you  nor  I,  dear  mother.  You  won't  understand 
me.  But  let  this  comfort  you:  I  should  soon  have  been 
turned  off  on  some  other  pretext,  if  not  on  that  one ;  and  this 
misfortune  is  only  the  beginning  cf  my  fortunes." 

"  I  don't  see  how  that  can  be,"  complained  the  widow, 
"  How  we  are  going  to  live,  I  don't  know !  " 

"Why,  mother,  look  at  our  neighbors,  the  Farnells,  They 
have  no  income  except  what  one  brave  young  woman  earns. 
Now,  you  have  a  small  income;  enough,  at  least,  to  furnish  you 
tea  and  sugar  and  flour,  without  any  help  from  me.  But  do 
you  imagine  that  I,  a  young  man  m  perfect  health,  with  ordi- 
narily good  faculties,  am  less  capable  of  earning  bread  for 
two  in  the  family  than  Julia  Farnell  for  four  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  think  something  besides  a  bare  sustenance  is 
needed  ?  "  said  the  widow, 

"  Yes,  and  I  hope  to  earn  it.  But  for  myself,  I  don't  care 
for  it  to-day  as  I  did  three  days  ago.  Then  I  hoped  soon  — 
but  all  that  is  over  with,"  said  William  resolutely. 


LEAVE-TAKINGS.  16/ 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  yet,  but  I  think  I  had  better  go  away  from 
here  for  a  hltle  while.  I  've  some  money  of  my  own  with 
which  I  think  of  making  a  little  journey  and  seeing  what  I 
can  do  in  Buffalo,  or  Rochester,  or  perhaps  New  York. 
Don't  fear  a  long  separation,"  William  went  on,  observing 
his  mother's  distress.  "  Either  you  shall  come  to  me,  or  I 
will  return  to  you,  before  many  months.  If  I  can  do  no  bet- 
ter, why,  I  can  always  earn  a  living  with  a  scythe  or  a  hoe." 

William  remained  at  home  that  day,  showing  his  mother 
many  little  kindnesses,  and  preparing  the  house  for  his  ab- 
sence, —  clearing  the  cellar,  looking  over  the  apples  and  po- 
tatoes, and  doing  ever}-thing  he  could  think  of  to  forestall  her 
missing  him  too  much.  Bravely  as  he  talked,  his  heart  was 
full  of  grief  and  tenderness  at  the  thought  of  leaving  her.  In 
the  mean  time,  she  got  ready  his  clothing  for  the  journey, 
much  as  if  she  had  been  making  his  shroud. 

Towards  night  he  went  to  engage  a  boy  to  come  occasion- 
ally and  cut  kindlings  for  her,  and  do  whatever  else  was 
needed  at  his  hands.  On  the  way  back  he  met  a  rickety 
little  figure  in  a  long,  black  cloak,  carrying  a  staff,  and  stopped 
in  front  of  it.  The  figure  stopped  ;  and  from  between  fur 
collar  and  fur  cap  peered  up  a  weazened  old  face,  fine  and 
pointed  as  a  mink's. 

"  Uncle  Carolus,"  said  William,  "  I  bid  you  good  evening." 

"  Good  evening,  yourself,  beggar  ! "  squeaked  the  old  man 
sharply.  "  You  want  something  of  me,  I  suppose.  You  never 
would  stop  me  in  the  street,  if  you  did  n't." 

"  Yes,  I  do  want  something  of  you,  uncle." 

"  Uncle !  uncle  !  "  chattered  old  Carolus,  brandishing  the 
staff  under  his  cloak,  "  don't  uncle  me  ! "  and  he  struck  the 
ground  so  violently  that  the  blow  came  near  sending  him  over 
backwards.  "Well,  what  is  it?  what  is  it?"  as  he  totter- 
ingly  regained  his  balance.     "  Come  to  the  point." 


l68  FARNELL'S    FOLLY. 

"  I  want  to  ask  your  pardon,"  said  William, 

"  My  pardon  ?  "  the  old  man  shrieked  out.  "  Pardon  be 
d — d  !     What  do  you  want  to  ask  my  pardon  for  ?  " 

"  For  doing  you  injustice,  uncle.  I  don't  think  I  ever  quite 
understood  you  till  lately.  I  used  to  think  you  the  meanest, 
most  selfish,  most  unprincipled  man  in  the  world  —  or  any- 
where about  here,  at  least.  I  think  I  told  you  so  on  one  or 
two  occasions." 

"  So  you  did ;  d — n  it,  you  did.  Will.  And  now  you  've 
changed  your  mind? " 

"  So  far  as  this,  ancle.  I  find  there  are  other  people  as 
unprincipled  as  you  are,  only  they  are  not  half  so  frank. 
They  cover  up  their  baseness  ;  you  don't.    I  like  you  for  that." 

"Oh,  you  do  !  "  snarled  old  Carolus.     "  Anything  more  ?  " 

"  I  feel  more  kindly  towards  you  than  I  did,"  said  William, 
in  tones  far  more  kind  than  his  words.  "  As  I  am  going 
away,  I  want  to  tell  you  so,  and  feel  that  we  part  in  a  more 
friendly  way  than  we  did  the  last  time." 

"  Ugh  ! "  the  old  man  gave  a  swinish  grunt.  "  And  this  is 
all  you  have  to  ask  ?     Don't  want  the  old  sinner's  money  ?  " 

"  No,  uncle,  and  I  never  did.  There  is  where  you  always 
mistook  my  mother  and  me.  You  thought  we  hated  you,  and 
wanted  your  money.  We  hated  you  enough ;  but  I  never 
wanted  a  dollar  of  yours.     I  don't  hate  you  now." 

"  Don't  you.  Will  ?  "  cried  the  old  man  eagerly.  "  Don't 
hate  your  miserable,  greedy,  grinding,  griping  old  uncle  ? 
For  that 's  what  you  called  me  !  " 

"  I  hate  your  principles,"  William  answered,  "  as  much  as 
ever,  —  worse  than  ever.  But  I  don't  hate  you,  uncle.  I 
can't  say  that  I  love  you  much,  but  I  would  gladly  do  you 
good  if  I  could ;  I  say  it  humbly  and  sincerely.  And  I  sin- 
cerely wish  you  good  by." 

"  Going,  are  you  ?  I  heard  you  was  out  of  business,  and 
d — d  if  I    did  n't   think  you  'd    come  a-begging.     Don't  you 


LEAVE-TAKINGS.  I69 

want  fifty  dollars  ?  Come,  I  '11  show  you  I  ain't  such  a  hard- 
hearted old  curmudgeon,  after  all.  I  never  thought  I  'd  do 
i: ;  but  by  Jehoshaphat !  I  '11  give  ye  fifty  dollars  ! " 

With  shaking  hand  the  grimacing  old  miser  actually  took 
out  his  pocket-book,     ^^'illiam  was  touched. 

"  I  agree  with  you  in  one  thing,  uncle,  —  I  never  thought 
vou  would.  That 's  another  instance  of  my  injustice  to  you. 
Uncle  Carolus,  if  people  understood  each  other  better,  they 
would  hate  each  other  less.  I  see  you  have  a  great  deal 
more  kindness  in  your  heart  for  me  than  I  ever  dreamt  of." 

"  I  have,  I  have.  Will !  And  I  '11  make  it  sevent}'-five,  —  a 
hundred,  if  you  say  so." 

"No,  no !  I  don't  want  your  money,  uncle,  and  I  can't  take 
it.  Put  up  your  pocket-book.  I  thank  you  just  the  same,  and 
I  shall  carry  away  a  very  different  impression  of  you  from 
what  I  had." 

"Well,  well!  if  you  won't,  you  won't!"  The  old  man 
clapped  his  money  quickly  into  his  pocket,  and  the  old,  avari- 
cious gleam  came  into  his  face  again.  "  I  '11  keep  my  bank- 
notes !  "  He  seemed  to  think  they  had  met  with  a  narrow 
escape.  "  Hundred  dollars  don't  grow  on  every  bush,"  tri- 
umphantly slapping  his  pocket.     "  You'll  find  that  out." 

"  It  is  n't  ever)'  bush  that  I  would  care  to  take  them  from," 
replied  William. 

"  From  an  old,  scratchy  bramble  like  me,  for  instance. 
Well,  well!  you  may  come  to  it.  I  heard  of  your  being 
turned  out  of  Daskill's  store.  He  's  got  your  girl,  too,  they 
say ;  cuts  you  out,  and  then  kicks  you  out,  he,  he !  " 

Over  the  hand  that  held  the  cane  the  old  man  rubbed  the 
other,  with  a  reminiscence  of  the  wicked  glee  he  had  felt 
when  he  first  heard  of  his  nephew's  misfortunes.  Then  he 
cursed  Daskill.  Will  left  him  cackling  and  cursing,  and 
walked  on. 

Passing  Ward  Farnell's  house,  he  went  in.     Julia,  who  met 


I/O  farnell's  folly. 

him  at  the  door,  pressed  his  hand  in  silence,  and  drew  him 
into  the  sitting-room.  He  divined  from  that  touch,  from  her 
wistful  face,  full  of  the  tenderest  concern  and  sweet  good-will, 
perhaps  even  more  from  something  intangible  and  unseen 
that  went  from  her  to  him,  that  she  knew  all,  or  almost  all. 
A  great  wave  of  sympathy  swept  over  him,  and  heaved  the 
depths  which  had  remained  calm  through  mighty  troubles. 
Strange,  how  sometimes  the  heart,  which  is  granite  to  the 
buffets  of  the  storm,  turns  to  wax  at  a  glance,  and  melts  at  a 
single  thrilling  beam  from  the  right  soul. 

"  I  thought  I  was  a  man,"  said  Will,  as  soon  as  he  could 
speak,  "but  you  make  a  child  of  me,  you  see!  O  Julia,  I 
have  suffered  !  But  I  am  not  so  weak  as  I  appear.  I  am 
reconciled  to  ever\'thing.  But  I  loved  her,  I  loved  her, 
Julia!" 

"  Loved  ?  "  said  Julia,  emphasizing  the  past  tense. 

"  I  don't  say  I  do  not  love  her  any  more,"  he  replied. 
"  But  I  give  her  up.     I  am  going  away." 

Julia's  countenance  changed.  After  a  little  while  she 
said, — 

"  I  can't  blame  you,  William.  I  thought  you  would  go.  I 
heard  how  you  left  the  store.     S/ie  has  heard  of  it  too." 

Will  looked  up  with  quick  interest. 

"You  have  talked  with  her?  " 

"Yes,  this  afternoon.  She  was  very  much  distressed  at 
what  had  occurred,  but  defended  Mr.  Daskill ;  she  would  not 
believe  he  had  anything  to  do  with  it.  She  declares  that,  on 
his  return,  he  will  have  you  restored  to  your  position,  even  if 
Mr.  Emmons  has  to  go." 

Will  smiled,  and  shook  his  head. 

"  It  is  well  for  her  to  think  so.  No  !  "  he  suddenly  ex- 
claimed, "  it  is  not  well.  It  is  better  for  her  and  ever>'body 
to  know  the  truth.     Did  she  tell  you  it  was  all  over  between 


LEAVE-TAKINGS.  I/I 

"  She  said  she  supposed  it  was.  O  Will,  she  loves  you,  and 
this  dreadful  thing  ought  not  to  be  !  " 

"Don't!  don't!  don't !"  pleaded  Will,  putting  up  his  hand 
defensively,  and  turning  away  his  face,  "  I  have  done  all  I 
can.  I  could  not  respect  myself  if  I  remained,  whining  and 
entreating,  now.  She  will  go  her  own  way.  I  go  mine.  It 
is  settled." 

Julia  was  weeping  silently.  Tears  were  still  in  her  voice  as 
she  said, — 

"A  single  phrase  of  Shakspeare  has  been  running  in  my 
mind  all  day,  — '  The  pity  of  it,  lago  !  O  lago,  the  pity  of  it, 
lago  ! '  I  had  no  other  words  to  say,  when  I  parted  from 
Marian.  'Oh,  the  pity  of  it,  the  pity  of  it!'  She  is  so 
sweet  and  beautiful  !  only  weak,  William,  very  weak  and 
foolish,  1  know.  But  she  has  so  many  admirable  and  charm- 
ing traits!  And  you — I  don't  know  anybody  else  so  well 
fitted  to  guide  her,  strengthen  her,  and  make  her  happy." 

"  Don't  talk  to  me  in  that  way  ! "  Will  exclaimed.  "  Do 
you  mean  to  shake  my  very  soul  ? " 

"  Forgive  me,"  said  Julia.  "  I  ought  not  to.  But  my  heart 
keeps  saying,  'The  pity  of  it!  Oh,  the  pit)-  of  it ! '  Well,  I 
give  it  up  now,  too.     Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  yet.  I  am  sorry  for  one  thing ;  those 
French  lessons  must  be  postponed.' 

"  Perhaps  they  will  come  around  yet,"  said  Julia  sadly. 
"\\Tien  do  you  go  ?  " 

"To-morrow  morning,  by  the  first  stage." 

"  So  soon  >     Oh,  then  it  is  all  over,  indeed  !  " 


172  farnell's  folly. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


MARIAN  S    ADVENTURE 


The  railroad  station  was  three  miles  away:  but  there  was  a 
regular  Waybrook  stage  connecting  with  the  principal  trains. 
After  parting  with  Julia,  William  started  to  walk  around  to 
the  coach-office  to  leave  his  order  for  the  morning,  when,  as 
he  passed  the  fork  factory,  he  met  Miles  Fenway  coming  out. 

"  Well !  how  is  this,  William  ? "  said  Miles,  in  his  open, 
cordial  way.     "  I  hear  you  've  lost  your  place." 

"  I  heard,"  said  William,  "  that  the  place  had  lost  me !  I  'm 
glad  we  've  met,  for  I  want  to  thank  you  for  all  your  kindness 
and  bid  you  good  by." 

"You  are  off,  William  !  where  ?  when  ?" 

"  To  Buffalo,  in  the  first  place.  I  am  just  now  going  to  the 
office  to  order  the  morning  stage  to  pick  me  up." 

"This  isn't  quite  right,  William,  I  'm  afraid." 

"  There  are  a  good  many  things  in  this  world,  Mr.  Fenway, 
that  don't  seem  quite  right,  but  perhaps  we  shall  find  they 
are  pretty  nearly  right  in  the  end ;  certainly,  if  we  act  our 
part  as  becomes  us." 

"  But  —  how  is  it  ?  "  cried  Miles.  "  Some  say  you  were 
turned  off  because  you  refused  to  sell  some  sham  goods  ; 
others,  that  Emmons  had  positive  orders  to  discharge  you. 
Which  story  is  correct  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  ;  perhaps  both.  I  was  to  be  got  rid  of  on 
some  pretext,  I  suppose,  and  the  sham  goods  afforded  a  con- 
venient one." 

"In  either  case,  it  is  a  most  outrageous,  dishonorable 
transaction !     I  would  n't   have   believed    it   after   what   Mr. 


MARIANS    ADVENTURE.  I  73 

Daskill  said  to  you  the  evening  of  your  accident.  By  tlie  way, 
did  you  get  pay  for  the  time  you  were  laid  up,  as  he  promised? " 

"What  do  you  think  ?"  said  Will,  with  a  smile. 

"  I  wish  Daskill  was  here!"  exclaimed  Miles,  with  a  good 
deal  more  warmth  than  he  was  accustomed  to  show.  "  I  'd 
have  one  plain  talk  with  him." 

"Talking  is  his  strong  point,"  laughed  Will.  "He  would 
beat  you." 

"  I  can't  like  the  idea  of  your  going  !  "  Mr.  Fenway  resumed. 
"What's  the  need  of  it .''  If  you  want  something  to  do,  — look 
here  !  come  into  nly  shop.  I  want  just  such  a  straightfor- 
ward, active,  intelligent  fellow  as  you  to  keep  my  accounts 
and  look  after  things  in  general;  I  can't  pay  you  great  wages, 
but  I  'II  give  you  as  good  a  chance  as  I  can." 

A  quick  emotion  struggled  in  Will's  face. 

"  I  can  stand  anything  but  such  kindness  !  "'  he  said  as  he 
grasped  Miles's  hand;  "but  I  think  I  had  better  go,  for  a 
while,  an}^vay ;  there  are  reasons  why  it  would  n't  be  well  for 
me  to  be  here  until  —  until  everything  is  over  with.  Mr. 
Daskill  told  me  the  very  day  I  was  discharged,  and  that  was 
yesterday,  —  how  long  ago  it  seems!  —  that  he  was  going  to 
bring  down  a  horse  and  carriage,  and  give  me  some  rides. 
Instead  of  getting  the  rides,  if  I  stayed  I  should  get  spattered 
with  mud  as  he  drove  by  with  somebody  at  his  side  I  should  n't 
care  to  see." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,William,"  said  Miles  sadly.  "Things 
are  not  —  and  perhaps  they  won't  be  —  as  I  would  have  them ; 
but  remember,  there  's  a  place  in  my  shop  for  you  whenever 
you  like  to  come  and  take  it." 

"That  will  be  a  great  comfort  for  me  to  think  of,"  said 
Will  gratefully. 

"And  see  here,  William!  —  But  nevermind  now — I  was 
going  to  make  a  proposition,  but  maybe  I  might  n't  be  able 
to  carrv  it  out." 


1/4  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

They  parted  like  father  and  son,  and  Miles  went  home 
with  a  more  sadly  stern  and  dissatisfied  countenance  than  he 
was  wont  to  show. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said  at  the  supper-table,  "  Daskill  has 
sent  Will  Rayburn  adrift  ?  " 

The  thing  was  pretty  well  known,  and  had  been  talked 
over  by  mother  and  daughter,  as  their  flushed  and  troubled 
faces  betrayed.  Mrs.  Fenway  came  up  quickly  to  the  defence 
of  her  favorite. 

"The  idea!  "  she  said,  "that  Mr.  Daskill  has  sent  anybody 
adrift.  How  absurd !  when  he  is  away,  and  has  nothing  to 
do  with  the  matter.  Mr.  Emmons  has  full  charge  in  his 
absence,  as  he  has  told  me  himself  :  and  it  's  all  his  doings," 

"  I  've  known  Emmons,  boy  and  man,  for  almost  twenty 
years,"  said  Miles.  "  He  's  a  timid,  ambitious,  cringing  crea- 
ture,—  just  the  kind  to  be  made  a  tool  of  where  he  sees  an 
advantage  to  be  gained,  but  too  feeble  to  take  any  bold  and 
open  course  on  his  own  account.  Then  this  must  be  on 
Daskill's  account." 

"  Miles  Fenway !  "  cried  madam  in  a  sudden  bla^e.  "  I  wish 
you  would  say  Mr.  Daskill." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  —  Mr.  Daskill,"  said  the  gentle  Miles. 

"  Do  set  a  more  respectful  example  before  the  boys !  And 
don't  be  so  absurd  as  to  make  such  charges,  after  you  your- 
self have  told  how  generous  he  was,  offering  to  pay  Will  Ray- 
burn  his  regular  wages  when  he  was  laid  up.  I  think  I  never 
in  my  life  heard  of  anything  more  noble  than  that." 

"  I  did  n't  regard  it  as  anything  very  extraordinan.-,  but  I 
wished  to  do  the  man  justice." 

"Well,  do  him  justice  now,  then  !" 

"  In  that  case,  I  must  add  the  climax  to  that  stor^^  Will 
has  not  been  paid,  as  Daskill  —  beg  pardon  again,  Mr,  Das- 
kill —  promised  ;  and  he  never  will  be." 

"  How  do  you  know,  Miles  Fenway?" 


MARIANS    ADVENTURE.  1/5 

"  I  've  talked  with  Will  Himself.  I  asked  him  the  ques- 
tion, and  he  smiled.  I  know  what  such  a  smile  as  that 
means." 

"  Well  !  "  said  Mrs.  Fenway,  "  if  he  has  n't  been  paid,  that 
shows  Mr.  Daskill  had  nothing  to  do  with  it,  and  knew  nothing 
about  it.  He  '11  make  it  right  when  he  comes  back,  I  'm 
positive  !  " 

"  He  will  be  too  late.  Will  is  going  oflF.  He  leaves  to- 
morrow morning  by  the  first  stage.  Nobody  knows  when 
he  '11  come  back,  — if  ever." 

Marian,  who  had  been  listening  to  the  conversation  in 
silent  distress,  gave  her  father  a  quick,  frightened  look  ;  then, 
suddenly  rising  from  the  table,  left  the  room. 

"Miles  Fenway," — madam  caught  up  a  plate  In  her  trem- 
bling little  hand,  but  put  it  down  again,  and  cast  hard  words 
instead,  —  "  you  're  an  unnatural  father  !  you  're  a  cruel 
man  ! " 

"  My  dear,"  said  Miles,  in  a  level,  gentle  voice,  fixing  her 
with  his  melancholy  gaze,  "  I  hope  it  may  turn  out  in  the  end 
that  you  have  been  no  more  cruel  than  I." 

"  To  say  things  to  agitate  that  poor  child  so,  and  unsettle 
her  mind  !  "  snapped  Mrs.  Fenway. 

"  She  was  agitated  when  I  came  in ;  so  were  you.  And,  it 
seems  to  me,  her  mind  has  been  a  good  deal  unsettled  of  late, 
without  my  help,"  observed  Miles. 

Mrs.  Fenway  flung  back  from  the  table  and  left  the  room. 
She  found  Marian  in  her  chamber,  with  a  tearless,  pale  face, 
putting  on  her  bonnet  and  veil.  Madam  was  mild  as  milk  in 
a  moment. 

"Why,  my  dear  child !  where  are  you  going?  " 

"  I  am  stifled  !  "  said  Marian.  "  I  must  get  a  breath  of 
air,  or  I  shall  go  wild  !  " 

"  The  house  is  close  !  "  Mrs.  Fenway  ran  to  throw  open  a 
window.     "  Don't  go  out  this  evening,  child  !  " 


i^'g  farnell's  folly. 

"  I  want  to  see  Julia  Farnell  a  minute.  I  shall  feel 
better."  And,  in  spile  of  her  mother's  entreaties,  Marian 
went. 

"I  don't  know  what  I  am  here  for,"  she  said  to  Julia,  as 
they  met  in  the  entry.  "  I  am  very  unhappy  !  He  is  going 
away  ;  did  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Julia,  "  he  was  here  two  hours  ago  to  bid 
me  good  by." 

"  He  don't  come  to  bid  me  good  by !  "  said  Marian,  with 
a  pang  of  jealousy.  "  I  should  like  to  see  him.  Not  that  we 
can  ever  be  to  each  other  again  as  we  were  once,  but  I  think 
he  has  not  been  used  quite  right,  by  others  as  well  as  by  me, 

0  Julia,  my  heart  aches  to  think  of  it —  and  that  he  is  going 
off  so!  I  may  never  see  him  again  !  Does  he  go  by  the  first 
coach  ? " 

"  So  he  said.     His  mind  seemed  quite  made  up  about  it. 

1  don't  think  anything  can  change  his  resolution." 

Marian  stood,  pale  and  panting,  by  the  door.  Such  beauty 
in  such  distress  was  pitiful  to  see. 

"  Go  up  to  my  room,"  Julia  urged. 

"  I  have  n't  time  ;  I  must  go  back  ;  my  mother  is  waiting. 
Did  he  speak  of  me  ?" 

"He  spoke  very  kindly  of  you,  Marian.  He  thinks  you  are 
misled  and  deceived  ;  but  he  has  no  hard  feelings  towards 
you." 

"He  has  a  beautiful  soul,  a  noble  heart !"  said  Marian  in 
a  whisper.     "  Is  there  another  such  in  the  world  .''  " 

"  I  don't  know  of  one,"  Julia  answered  fervently. 

There  was  a  painful  pause,  —  Marian  panting,  and  pulling 
a  finger  of  her  glove  to  pieces  ;  Julia,  with  a  face  all  pity, 
looking  on. 

"What  would  you  do,  Julia?"  Marian  asked  at  length, 
with  a  scared,  faint  smile. 

"  If  he  —  that  is,  if  one  I  loved  —  loved  me  so,  and  I  had 


MARIAN  S    ADVENTURE.  I// 

wronged  him,  and  he  left  me,  I  would  follow  him  around  the 
globe  !  "  said  Julia. 

"  I  did  n't  mean  that,"  said  Marian,  thrilled  with  deep  and 
secret  joy.  "  I  could  never  do  as  you  could.  O  Julia,  I 
have  often  thought,  if  he  had  only  loved  you  !  " 

"  If  he  had,"  replied  Julia,  with  a  sweet,  impassioned  look, 
"do  you  think  — "  But  she  checked  herself.  "He  will 
never  love  anybody  as  he  has  loved  Marian  Fenway.  You 
will  have  that  thought  to  comfort  you." 

"  Poor  comfort !  "  said  Marian.  "  He  will  forget  me  in  a 
little  while,  as  I  deserve.  O  Julia,  it  has  done  me  good  to 
see  you ;  and  now  I  must  not  trouble  you  any  more.  I  must 
go  back  to  my  mother." 

But,  after  parting  from  her  friend,  Marian  did  not  immedi- 
ately return  home.  Drawing  the  veil  over  her  bonnet,  she 
walked  on  quickly  towards  the  Widow  Rayburn's  house. 
There  was  a  light  in  the  kitchen,  the  curtain  was  up;  and 
there  stood  the  widow,  solitary  and  sorrowful,  bending  over 
her  ironing-board. 

"  Something  for  Will's  journey,"  thought  Marian.  "  He 
may  be  out.     Oh  !  if  I  should  meet  him  !  " 

She  glanced  up  and  down  the  street,  and  stopped.  Pres- 
ently somebody  else  entered  the  kitchen.  It  was  Will  him- 
self, bearing  a  small  travelling-trunk  by  both  handles.  The 
widow  turned  to  speak  to  him  as  he  set  it  down.  Marian's 
heart  beat  so  wildly  that  she  grew  faint,  and  leaned  on  the 
gate. 

A  frantic  impulse  seized  her  to  go  in  ;  and,  as  if  afraid  of 
yielding  to  it  if  she  remained,  she  walked  hurriedly  on.  She 
had  gone  but  a  little  way,  however,  when  she  turned  back. 
The  fascination  was  too  great ;  she  must  look  at  him  once 
more,  —  stand  out  there  in  the  cold  night,  under  the  stars, 
and  watch  him  through  the  window,  and  bid  him  an  eternal 
farewell  in  her  heart. 


178  farnell's  folly. 

By  that  time  mother  and  son  had  both  sat  down.  The 
widow's  face  was  turned,  so  that  it  could  not  be  seen  from  the 
street ;  but  up  to  it,  now  and  then,  went  hand  and  handker- 
chief, in  sorrowful  pantomime.  Will  was  gravely  talking. 
How  calmly  cheerful,  how  purely  good  he  looked ! 

"  Oh !  he  does  n't  dream  I  am  so  near  !  "  thought  Marian. 
"  If  he  did,  would  he  care  ?  "  Then  a  cold  dread  fell  upon 
her,  that  she  was  not  at  all  in  his  mind  or  in  his  heart ,  that 
henceforth  new  interests  possessed  him ;  that  she  had  lost 
him  indeed. 

Footsteps  on  the  wooden  sidewalk  alarmed  her,  and  she 
walked  away  again.  A  tall  man  was  approaching,  he  stopped 
at  the  widow's  gate  and  entered  the  house  ;  then  Marian  went 
back,  and  once  more  peering  into  the  window  from  the  street, 
saw,  not  Will,  but  her  own  father,  sitting  in  the  chair  where 
Will  had  sat.  It  seemed  strange  to  her  that  he  could  walk 
in  on  friendly  terms  where  she  could  not ;  that  his  presence 
there  made  it  impossible  for  her  now  to  go  in,  whatever  she 
might  have  done  before. 

"  Suppose  he  had  come  and  found  me  there  ?  "  she  thought ; 
and,  alarmed  at  the  danger  she  had  escaped,  she  hurried 
home. 

Mrs.  Fenway  met  her  with  many  questions,  and  abounded 
in  words  of  counsel  and  consolation  ;  to  all  which  Marian, 
listening  with  a  sick  and  stricken  countenance,  had  little  to 
say.  Complaining  of  headache  at  last,  she  begged  to  be 
left  alone,  and  went  to  bed. 

But  instead  of  putting  out  the  light,  she  placed  it  near  her 
pillow,  and  there  read  over  and  over  again,  with  kisses  and 
tears,  all  Will's  letters  to  her,  which  she  had  never  yet 
had  the  resolution  to  destroy ;  then  she  extinguished  the 
lamp,  and  lay  with  them  clasped  tightly  to  her  bosom,  in 
the  dark  and  silent  room.  She  tried  in  vain  to  sleep;  at  last, 
in  an  access  of  passionate  despair,  she  rose  and  went  to  the 


MARIAN  S    ADVENTURE.  I79 

window,  and  looked  away  in  the  misty  starlight  towards  Will's 
home,  and  stretched  out  her  arms  to  him,  saying  very  softly, 
"O  Will,  come  to  me!  come  to  me!  come  tome!"  Then 
she  listened,  and  heard  only  the  roaring  of  the  dam  not  far 
away.  All  the  village  slept ;  even  Will  was  probably  asleep, 
and  at  peace.  In  the  whole  calm  universe  was  there  another 
being  so  wretched  and  forlorn  as  she? 

Trembling  with  cold,  she  withdrew  from  the  window  and 
returned  to  her  bed.  But  she  was  now  afraid  to  fall  asleep, 
lest  she  might  not  awaken  early  enough  in  the  morning  ;  for 
she  had  formed  a  wild  resolution. 

She  did  sleep  a  little  in  spite  of  herself ;  but  there  was  no 
danger  of  her  sleeping  too  long;  she  was  awake  and  dressed 
in  the  gray  dawn  ;  and  looking  in  her  glass,  was  surprised  to 
find  that  she  had  not  lost  all  her  freshness  and  fairness  of 
face,  after  such  a  night.  Fever  counterfeited  health,  and  gave 
her  cheeks  a  soft,  deceptive  bloom.  She  appeared  in  good 
spirits  at  the  breakfast-table,  but  left  it  soon  and  stole  out 
of  the  house  in  an  old-fashioned  long  shawl  which  she  had 
seldom  worn,  and  a  thick  blue  veil  completely  covering  her 
head. 

She  met  several  persons  she  knew,  but  nobody  recognized 
her  in  that  disguise.  Walking  a  little  stiffly  and  a  little  bent, 
she  passed  over  the  bridge  and  up  the  street  to  the  coach- 
office  ;  where  going  in  she  sat  down  to  wait.  As  soon  as  the 
coach  drove  up  to  the  door,  she  went  out  and  got  into  it,  hud- 
dling herself  closely  in  a  corner,  wrapped  in  her  veil  and  shawl. 

"  When  he  gets  in,"  thought  she,  "  will  he  know  me  ?  "  If 
he  did  not,  should  she  let  herself  be  known  ?  She  had  not 
made  up  her  mind  as  to  that ;  to  ride  in  the  same  coach  with 
him,  to  be  near  him,  perhaps  by  his  very  side,  to  look  at  him 
and  wait  for  something  she  scarcely  dared  hope  for  or  name 
to  her  own  heart, —  that  was  all  she  thought  of  now. 

There  was  no  other  passenger  at  the  start .  when  the  driver, 


i8o  farnell's  folly. 

having  come  and  looked  in  at  her,  slammed  the  door  and 
mounted  his  box. 

"Will  they  take  him  up  the  first  one?"  she  wondered. 
Perhaps  there  would  be  no  one  else  in  the  coach ;  they  two 
alone  together  !     Oh,  if  that  should  happen  ! 

The  coach  went  its  rounds,  picking  up  three  or  four  express 
bundles,  and  one  old  woman,  who  took  her  seat  in  the 
farthest  corner  opposite  Marian.  Then  it  rolled  away  toward 
Widow  Rayburn's  house.  The  girl  looked  forward  through 
her  veil  with  breathless  expectation ;  then  backward  with 
blank  dismay.  The  coach  had  not  stopped  at  all,  but  gone 
straight  by.  And  not  a  face  was  to  be  seen  at  window  or 
door. 

She  wanted  to  call  out  to  the  driver,  and  ask  him  if  had  not 
neglected  a  certain  order.  But  what  a  foolish  act  that  would 
have  been  !  Will  might  go  over  by  some  other  conveyance. 
Or  perhaps  he  had  changed  his  mind,  and  would  not  go  at 
all;  could  it  be  in  consequence  of  anything  her  father  might 
have  said  to  him  ? 

For  a  moment  she  wished  herself  out  of  the  coach,  and  safe 
in  her  room  at  home.  But  with  reflection  came  a  different 
thought.  This  coach,  in  order  to  hit  two  trains,  started  an 
hour  earlier  than  was  necessar}'  for  the  one  Will  was  to  take. 
It  carried  passengers  also  to  the  earlier  trani  going  east, 
waiting  at  the  station  during  the  interval,  and  carrj'ing  back 
passengers  from  both.  It  seemed  now  to  Marian  that  she  must 
see  Will,  if  only  for  a  moment,  even  though  she  did  not  speak 
to  him  ;  she  would,  therefore,  keep  the  coach,  watch  for  hmi 
while  it  waited  at  the  station  (hoping  he  had  indeed  changed 
his  mind  and  would  not  go),  and  then  ride  back  to  whatever 
fate  was  to  be. 

The  morning  was  fresh  and  spring-like.  The  snow  was 
mostly  gone  from  the  wheat-fields,  which  came  out  green  from 
their  winter  covering.     Along  the  hillsides  hung   shreds  of 


MARIANS    ADVENTURE.  l8l 


softest  mist,  faintly  tinged  by  the  early  sunshine.  Bluebiids 
and  even  robins  were  singing  by  the  roadside,  and  from  the 
wooded  heights  came  the  wild,  musical  cawing  of  crows 
among  the  maples  and  pines.  Even  Marian,  preoccupied  as 
she  was,  could  not  but  feel  the  exhilaration  of  the  chill,  sweet 
day. 

There  were  no  signs  of  Will  on  the  road  or  at  the  station. 
Marian  handed  the  driver  double  fare,  saying  as  he  stared 
at  her,  that  she  had  come  to  meet  a  friend,  and  intended  to 
go  back  in  the  coach. 

"Miss  Fenway,  ain't  it  ? "  he  said,  recognizing  the  voice, 
through  all  disguise. 

When  the  eastern  train  arrived  he  stood  by  the  coach, 
watching  some  passengers  who  got  off. 

"  Wal  !  he  did  n't  come,  did  he  ?  "  said  he,  after  the  last  had 
stepped  on  the  platform.  "  Though  maybe  't  ain't  hivi  you  're 
expectin'.  Excuse  me,  Miss  Fenway  !  "  And  he  went  off, 
grinning  sheepishly. 

Was  then  her  intrigue  with  Adolphus  so  well  known  that 
she  should  be  suspected  by  a  common  stage-driver  of  having 
come  out  there  in  that  plight  to  meet  him  on  his  return  to 
Waybrook  ?  A  still  more  startling  thought  followed  :  what  if 
Mr.  Daskillhad  chanced  to  come,  and  found  her  in  the  coach! 
The  train  was  off,  and  they  waited  for  the  next.  It  was  a 
long  and  dreary  hour  to  Marian  ;  and,  her  excitement  subsid- 
ing, she  man.-elled  at  herself  for  being  there.  At  last  the 
distant  whistle  was  heard,  and  still  Will  had  not  come. 

Then,  just  as  the  train  approached  the  platform,  two  men 
in  a  wagon  drove  up.  One  man  was  her  father,  the  other 
was  Will.  There  was  the  small  travelling-trunk  beside.  For 
such  was  the  result  of  the  proposition  which  Miles  Fenway 
did  not  make  to  the  young  man  when  they  parted  the  evening 
before  on  the  street,  but  afterwards  put  to  him  in  these  words, 
when  he  called  at  the  widow's  house  :  "  I  've  got  to  drive  over 


1 82  farnell's  folly. 

to  the  depot  in  the  morning,  Will,  and  I  may  as  well  go  early 
enough  to  take  you  to  the  train.  That  will  save  your  fare  in 
the  coach,  and  give  you  an  hour  longer  with  your  mother. 
I  '11  countermand  your  order  at  the  office  on  my  way  back." 
Will  had  gladly  accepted  the  offer;  and  thus  Marian  had  her 
morning  ride  alone. 

She  saw  him,  nevertheless,  if  that  was  any  satisfaction. 
While  Mr.  Fenway  delivered  the  trunk  to  the  baggage-master, 
Will  bought  his  ticket  ;  then  snatching  his  check,  he  shook 
hands  with  the  tall  Miles,  and  swung  himself  upon  the  plat- 
form of  a  car,  where  he  stood  looking  back  as  the  train 
started. 

Marian  had  previously  opened  the  coach  window.  She 
now,  in  that  supreme  moment  of  love  and  despair,  threw  up 
her  veil.  Will  had  a  momentary  glimpse  of  that  beautiful, 
beseeching,  sad  face,  as  the  train  bore  him  away. 


ENGAGED. 


183 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

ENGAGED. 


When  Adolphus  returned,  after  a  week's  absence,  he 
expressed  great  surprise  at  the  change  ^vhlch  had  been  made 

in  the  store. 

"There  '  "  exclaimed  T^Irs.  Fenway  triumphantly,  i  knew 
just  what  you  would  say!  And  about  William's  pay,  which 
was  to  have  gone  on  in  his  absence,  but  which  they  say  he 

didn't  receive?"  .  „ 

"  I  was  never  more  chagrined  at  anything  in  my  lite, 
replied  Adolphus,  with  convincing  candor.  "  having  no 
expectation  of  his  leaving  us,  I  neglected  to  say  an>  thing  to 
Mr.  Emmons  about  that.  But  it  is  n't  too  late  I  suppose  we 
have  lost  William,  -and  a  very  serious  loss  I  ^^^^^^er  it,  - 
but  he  shall  have  the  money.  I'll  send  it  around  to  his 
mother  this  very  day."  AT^rlcn 

Oh  the  large-souled,  magnanimous  man!  If  only  Marian 
and  Mr.  Fenway  could  have  heard  him  talk!  We  may  be 
sure,  however,  that  he  lost  nothing  in  the  report  Mrs  Fen^^-ay 
niade  to  them  of  his  noble  words.  It  was  not  until  long  .^ter 
that  the  matter  of  sending  so  trifling  a  sum  to  W  ilham  s  mother 
was  found,  after  all,  to  have  escaped  the  great  man  s  memory. 
Th"^  horse  (which  Will  was  not  to  ride  after  until  long  after- 
wards) was  at  the  door,  and  Marian  was  putting  on  her  things 
to  go  out  with  her  newly  returned  lover,  when  this  conyersa  ion 
beLen  him  and  Mrs.  Fenway  took  place.  She  was  a  long  time 
getting  ready  ;  she  felt  that  the  occasion  was  full  of  fate  for  her, 
!nd  her  mind,  more  than  her  person,  needed  to  be  prepared. 


184  farnell's  folly. 

She  knew  he  would  press  his  suit :  what  should  she  answer 
him  ?  At  one  moment  an  overpowering  impulse  seized  her 
to  tell  him  everything,  even  what  she  had  not  yet  told  her 
mother,  of  her  ride  to  the  railroad  that  March  morning,  and 
her  last  sight  of  Will.  Would  he  not  pity  her  and  counsel 
her  what  to  do  }  If  he  wished  to  marry  her  after  that,  she 
would  not  refuse  him.  But  would  he  wish  it?  Pity  her  he 
might,  but  would  he  not  scorn  her  more  ? 

Mrs.  Fenway  came  to  her  assistance,  and  poured  the  story 
of  Mr.  Daskill's  generosity  into  a  wilhng  ear.  Having  lost 
the  man  who  had  her  heart,  Marian  desired  now  to  think  well 
of  him  who  flattered  her  pride. 

*'  If  he  urges  you  to-day,  I  would  n't  put  him  off  any 
longer,"  whispered  mamma. 

"  But  what  shall  I  do  ?  "  said  Marian.  "  I  feel  that  I  ought 
to  tell  him  something,  for  my  own  peace  of  mind.  I  want 
him  to  know  before  —  " 

"  He  knows  all  he  need  to,  you  may  be  sure  of  that,"  Mrs. 
Fenway  broke  in.  "  It  is  taken  for  granted  that  a  girl  like 
you  must  have  had  admirers.  It 's  a  terrible  weapon  a  woman 
places  in  the  hands  of  the  man  who  is  to  be  her  husband, 
when  she  confesses  to  him  a  previous  attachment." 

"  I  think  that  depends  upon  the  kind  of  man  he  is,"  re- 
plied Marian.  "  I  should  be  afraid  of  a  husband  I  could  n't 
tell  everythmg  to.  I  should  live  in  constant  dread  of  his 
finding  out  what  I  ought  to  have  confessed." 

It  was  a  relief  to  her  conscience  to  talk  that  way.  Yet  her 
mother  had  little  fear  of  her  being  so  frank  with  Adolphus. 
She  went  down-stairs  charmingly  attired,  and  though  some- 
what pale  and  worn-looking,  sweet  and  smiling  as  only  she 
could  be. 

The  mother  watched  her  with  pride  and  joy  as  she  rode 
away  with  her  lover ;  and  met  her,  with  an  eager,  questioning 
face,  on  her  return. 


ENGAGED.  1 85 

"  Have  you  ? "  she  whispered. 

And  Marian  gave  a  little  nod  and  a  sweet,  sad  smile. 

The  enjajement  was  not  publicly  announced  for  some 
weeks  yet,  but  it  soon  became  evident  to  the  little  world  at 
Waybrook  that  Mr.  Daskill's  suit  had  met  with  favor.  The 
air  of  him  as  he  walked  the  humble  wooden  sidewalk,  or 
drove  his  clipped  and  mouse-colored  horse  in  his  light  buggy 
through  the  streets  of  the  village,  was  not  the  air  of  a  de- 
sponding lover,  by  any  means.  Ribbons  and  whip  in  hand, 
his  head  thrown  well  back  and  inclined  slightly  to  one  side, 
in  an  attitude  at  once  easy  and  arrogant,  with  his  sagacious, 
half-closed  eyes  regarding  critically  the  creature's  paces,  after 
the  manner  of  a  connoisseur  of  horse-tlesh ;  often  with  the 
dog  Romeo  by  his  side,  sitting  erect,  sedate  and  decorous, 
with  grave,  inscrutable  countenance,  disdaining  to  look  down 
at  common  curs  on  foot,  manifestly  a  dog  that  appreciated 
his  position  in  society;  —  that  was  Adolphus.  Who  that  saw 
him  thus,  and  remembered  poor  Will  Raybum,  —  compared 
this  stylish  stranger  with  that  village  youth  as  he  was  last 
seen  limping  about, — would  not  have  voted,  with  the  Way- 
brook  majority,  that  Marian  Fenway  had  chosen  wisely  and 
well  ? 

The  mouse-colored  horse  was  frequently  to  be  seen  stand- 
ing at  Mr.  Fenway's  gate,  hitched  by  a  weight  (he  pulled  if 
tied  to  a  post),  and  scrupulously  blanketed  after  exercise, 
when  there  was  the  least  chill  in  the  air  (if  so  careful  of  his 
horse,  how  tender  would  the  man  be  of  his  wife  !)  ;  and  often 
the  dignified  dog  got  down  then  and  there  to  make  room  for 
a  fairer  companion. 

To  have  heard  her  musical,  light  laugh  as  she  stepped  in 
(how  gracefully  Adolphus  assisted  her,  keeping  her  skirts 
from  the  wheels!),  and  then  to  have  seen  her  riding  radiant 
by  his  side  after  the  fleet  grayhound  of  a  horse,  would  you 
not  have  sworn  that  she  was  the  fairest  and  happiest  maiden 


1 86  farnell's  folly. 

in  the  land  ?  How  they  chatted  and  laughed !  \\Tiat  an  at- 
mosphere of  romance  and  enjoyment  surrounded  them  as  they 
passed  swiftly  along,  amid  the  lights  and  shadows  of  the  vil- 
lage, just  before  sunset  on  a  mild  May  evening !  What  an 
edifying  sight  it  would  have  been  to  Will  Raybum,  had  he 
been  there  to  see  ! 

Farnell's  Folly  was  being  rapidly  transformed  into  Daskill's 
Wisdom,  and  Adolphus  took  Marian  (the  engagement  was 
public  now)  almost  every  day  to  see  the  work  going  for- 
Avard  in  the  house  and  about  the  grounds.  He  consulted 
her  taste  in  everything,  and  seemed  solicitous  that  her 
slightest  wish  should  be  gratified.  The  manner  in  which  he 
would  sometimes,  at  a  mere  suggestion  from  her,  issue  orders  to 
the  workmen  at  once,  and  on  the  spot,  as  if  she  were  a  queen 
whose  lightest  preference  was  law, —  what  could  be  more  flat- 
tering? Although  she  frequently  observed  afterwards  that 
such  orders  had  not  been  strictly  carried  out. 

"Why,  Adolphus!"  she  cries  (oh  if  Will  Raybum  could 
hear  that  heavenly  voice  calling  the  delightful  name  in  those 
grand,  echoing  rooms!),  "the  men  didn't  do  as  you  told 
them,  after  all ! " 

Then  Adolphus  blames  the  workmen  for  their  neglect,  un- 
less they  happen  to  be  within  hearing ;  in  which  case  he  coolly 
takes  the  responsibility  upon  himself. 

"  On  reflection,  Marian,  I  felt  sure  you  would  prefer  it  this 
way,  after  it  was  done ;  if  you  don't,  it  shall  be  done  over  to 
suit  you." 

To  which  she  is  sure  to  reply,  "  Of  course  you  know  best, 
Adolphus." 

But  it  is  sometimes  almost  provoking ;  for  instance,  when, 
because  he  had  insisted  on  it  as  a  matter  of  great  importance, 
she  spent  hours  in  selecting  from  a  large  number  of  samples 
such  styles  of  paper  hangings  as  she  thought  best  suited  the 
various  rooms,  and  then  found  on  her  next  visit  that  other 


ENGAGED.  1 8/ 

Styles  had  actually  been  put  on,  Aldophus  saw  that  she  felt 
aggrieved,  and  made  haste  to  proffer  the  usual  explanation. 

"  1  felt  sure,  on  reflection,  that  these  styles  would  please 
you  much  the  best,  —  they  are  so  much  raort  distmgues.  If 
they  don't  we  can  put  the  others  right  on  over  them."  The 
devoted,  generous  man  ! 

He  brought  her  up  to  the  place  one  day  expressly  to  ask 
her  what  trees  she  would  have  planted  on  a  certain  terrace  ; 
and  she  had  decided  in  favor  of  the  Scotch  larch  and  the 
mountain  ash,  even  selecting  the  trees. 

"  Make  no  mistake,  now,"  was  Mr.  Daskill's  last  charge  to 
the  foreman.  "  It  shall  be  called  Marian's  Terrace,"  he  said 
to  her ;  "  and  your  trees  shall  keep  this  happy  day  in  sacred 
remembrance." 

What,  then,  was  her  astonishment  afterwards  to  find  Aus- 
trian pines  in  their  place  !  She  began  to  scold  the  gardener, 
who  said,  "  Austrian  pines  was  Mr.  Daskill's  last  orders,  mum." 
"  True,"  said  Adolphus,  "  for,  on  reflection,  I  knew  you 
would  much  prefer  the  pines,  the  terrace  being  so  conspicu- 
ous in  winter,  when  larches  look  so  hair)'  and  ugly." 

"  But  my  dear  little  mountain  ashes  !  "  said  Marian.  "  Their 
berries  are  so  beautiful,  and  they  attract  so  many  birds." 

"  Oh,  but  you  would  n't  have  liked  them  at  all,  stuck  up  there 
among  the  pines,"  said  Adolphus. 

"  Of  course,  you  are  quite  right,"  said  Marian,  but  with  a 
sinking  heart ;  "your  taste  is  so  much  better  than  mine." 

"  It  is  more  practised  than  yours,  that 's  all.  You  have 
naturally  the  finest  taste  of  any  woman  I  ever  knew,"  said 
Adolphus,  who  could  afford  to  be  generous  with  his  praise, 
since  he  always  went  on  and  did  things  in  his  own  way. 
"  But,  if  you  say  so,  you  shall  have  the  larches  and  mountain 
ashes  in  place  of  the  pines ;  it  will  be  only  a  few  hours'  work 
for  a  gang  of  men." 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed  !  "  said  Marian. 


i88  farnell's  folly. 

Mrs.  Fenway  had  not  yet  visited  her  daughter's  future 
home,  although  she  longed  to  do  so,  and  was  inclined  to  be 
exasperated  at  somebody,  because  her  maternal  pride,  point- 
ing that  way,  had  suffered  neglect.  But  Mr.  Daskill,  who 
was  probably  the  most  delightful  man  you  ever  saw  in  the  mat- 
ter of  making  fine  promises,  had  insisted  that  she  must  not 
think  of  walking  on  so  great  an  occasion  as  her  visit  would 
be,  and  had  engaged  to  take  her  up  in  his  carriage. 

"  I  am  not  quite  ready  for  you  yet;  but  in  a  few  days  I  shall 
wish  to  consult  you  and  Marian  together  regarding  some  ver)' 
important  particulars.  Your  first  visit  will  be  a  great  event ; 
and  you  must  not  go  without  me  on  any  consideration." 

Which  was  placing  Mrs.  Fenway  in  a  very  trying  situation. 
If  Mr.  Daskill  was  unwilling  she  should  go  without  him,  and 
was  never  ready  to  take  her,  what  could  the  unhappy  lady  do .-' 
It  was  so  embarrassing  to  be  asked  by  neighbors  if  she  had 
seen  the  house,  and  be  obliged  to  answer  (as  she  sometimes 
did  rather  shortly),  "  No  !  " 

Had  she  been  put  off  so  by  anybody  but  Adolphus,  that 
hot  little  temper  of  hers  would  have  been  heard  from,  be  sure. 
But  it  was  too  early  yet  to  risk  any  small  indulgence  of  the 
kind  with  her  future  son-in-law. 

Marian  had  left  Miss  Maybloom's  seminary  at  the  close  of 
the  winter  term  ;  and  she,  who  was  altogether  too  young  to 
marry  when  poor  Will  Rayburn  wanted  her,  was  now  making 
preparations  for  a  speedy  union  with  Mr.  Daskill. 

The  wedding  was  to  be  a  grand  affair  for  Waybrook.  Mr, 
Fenway  did  not  look  with  a  very  auspicious  eye  upon  the 
match,  yet  he  opened  his  purse  freely  at  his  wife's  demands. 
Then  w-hat  gifts  Adolphus  lavished  on  his  future  bride  !  It 
rained  jewels  at  one  time  ;  sparkling  showers  fell  into  her 
lap.  There  was  nothing  in  his  Waybrook  store,  nor  even  in 
Buffalo,  quite  fine  enough  for  her,  but  rich  goods  had  to  come 
from  New  York  expressly  for  her  outfit.     Adolphus  was  par- 


ENGAGED.  I89 

ticular  to  have  her  select,  from  samples  previously  sent  for, 
such  as  she  liked  best ;  but  when  the  goods  came,  they  were 
found  to  be  nearly  all  patterns  of  his  own  choice. 

"  On  reflection,"  he  said,  "  I  felt  certain  that  you  would  pre- 
fer these,  they  are  so  much  more  the  style  -,  and  making  up  my 
orders  in  a  hurr}'  at  last,  I  didn't  have  time  to  consult  you." 

"  You  are  right,  I  Ve  no  doubt,"  said  Marian,  ''  But  I  was 
foolish  enough  to  set  my  heart  on  that  lovely  lavender." 

"  Dear,  you  shall  have  the  lovely  lavender,  or  any  other 
silk  in  the  world  !  "  said  the  noble  Adolphus. 

"  Oh,  no,  don't  send  for  it  nov,-;  I  don't  care  for  it,  really." 

But  Adolphus  was  sure  she  did,  and  declared  that  she 
should  have  it,  to  please  him  now,  if  not  to  please  herself. 
Was  there  ever  free-hearted  lover  like  him  ?  But  there  was 
this  little  circumstance  connected  with  the  lavender  silk,  — 
that  he  appeared  from  the  moment  to  have  forgotten  all  about 
it :  it  was  never  ordered,  and  it  never  came. 

Wedding  presents  from  all  quarters  poured  in.  The  ele- 
gant practice  of  contributing  to  a  bride's  trousseau  had  not 
hitherto  been  much  in  vogue  among  the  good  people  of  Way- 
brook  ;  but  the  friends  of  Adolphus  set  a  splendid  example, 
which  established  the  fashion  for  all  coming  time.  From 
persons  she  had  never  seen  came  pictures,  statuettes,  fans, 
screens,  epergnes,  vases,  and  oh,  such  quantities  of  sideboard 
and  table  silver  !  It  would  not  do  for  her  own  associates  to 
be  outdone  in  generosity  by  strangers ;  they  came,  saw,  and 
were  conquered  by  the  brilliant  display  ;  going  away  sick  at 
heart  until  they  too  had  done  something  creditable  to  them- 
selves in  the  same  line  of  busmess. 

So  it  got  to  be  quite  the  rage  to  give  something  to  Marian 
Fenway.  Nobody  liked  to  hear  the  catalogue  of  her  presents, 
and  be  obliged  to  confess  having  given  nothing.  Her  jilted 
lovers  all  came  down  handsomely,  except  one  we  know,  whose 
eais  were  fortunately  beyond  the    din  of   all   these   doings. 


IQO  farnell's  folly. 

Even  the  poor,  who  could  ill  afford  it,  paid  tribute,  not  so 
much  to  friendship  and  the  bride  as  to  the  great  goddess,  the 
Diana  of  the  Ephesians,  Fashion.  Her  late  teachers  and 
schoolmates  all  gave,  with  few  exceptions,  the  most  noticeable 
of  whom  was  Julia. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  give,"  she  said  to  Marian  herself  ;  "  and 
I  shall  not  go  to  your  wedding." 

Nine  butter-knives  were  presented,  all  marked, 

Mrs.  Wetherspun  opened  her  heart  and  her  work-bag,  and 
gave  a  pair  of  woollen  stockings  (and  bragged  what  nice, 
wann  ones  they  were,  and  what  small  thanks  she  got  for  them 
ever  afterward);  and  black  Nance  contributed  a  tooth-brush. 

"  I  tell  ye  what,  Lottie,"  said  Geordie  Lorkins,  wrinkling 
his  features  humorously,  as  he  came  home  one  day  from 
his  father-in-law's,  where  he  had  seen  the  array  of  gifts, 
"hanged  if  I  hain't  learnt  a  lesson  ;  and  if  you  and  I  was  to 
be  married  over  again,  take  my  head  for  a  turnip  if  I  would 
n't  do  the  thing  differently.  And  if  ever  you,  Mrs.  Chilgrove, 
think  of  uniting  yourself  w^th  a  man  in  the  holy  bonds  of 
matte r-o'-money,  let  me  tell  you  how  to  come  the  wedding- 
present  game.  Manage  to  set  the  fashion  of  giving  you  things 
in  the  first  place,  and  you  're  all  right.  Start  it  yourself,  if 
nobody  else  will.  Send  to  your  own  address  some  anony- 
mous, elegant  trifle,  —  silver  cake-basket,  gold-lined  pitcher 
and  goblets,  chiny  tea-set,  or  something  of  the  sort,  —  then 
talk  about  'em,  and  wonder  who  it  could  be,  until  somebody 
takes  the  hint  and  follows  suit.  You  've  got  'em  then,  for 
sure  !  One  present  brings  another  like  rocks  rattling  down  a 
bank.  Soon  as  you  've  something  to  show  and  to  blow  about, 
— '  Oh,  don't  you  think  Mr.  Longpurse  sent  me  this  ?  and 
dear  Mrs.  Fatpurse  sent  me  that !  and  my  husband's  intimate 
friend,  Senator  Noodle's  son,  gave  t'other! ' —  why,  the  thing 
is  settled.  Your  delighted  relations  and  acquaintances  can't 
stand  the  pressure,  any  more  than  Deacon  Dorset  can,  old 


ENGAGED.  IQI 

miser  as  he  is,  when  he  sees  his  neighbors'  names  down  for 
ten  dollars  apiece  on  a  fashionable  subscription  paper.  Only 
look  out  for  one  thing  :  nobody  must  suspect  that  you  really 
need  any  help  in  the  way  of  presents.  Do  you  think,  if 
Marian  Fenway  was  a  poor  girl,  going  to  many  a  poor  man, 
—  Will  Rayburn,  for  instance,  —  it  w^ould  rain  teapots  and 
sugar-bowls  the  way  it  does  ?     Mabby  !  " 

"  I  never  had  any  presents  when  I  was  married,"  said  Lot- 
tie pathetically.  "Don't  think  I  envy  Marian  a  bit,  for  I 
don't.  But  it  does  seem  hard,  when  I  stood  absolutely  in  need 
of  so  many  things  I  could  n't  get,  for  father  was  embarrassed 
in  his  business,  and  Geordie  was  paying  off  the  debt  he  had 
contracted  for  his  brother;  and  now  to  see  the  extravagant, 
nonsensical  presents  lavished  on  her  !  I  own  my  heart  comes 
up  in  my  throat  when  I  think  what  a  time  I  had,  and  then  look 
at  what  she  is  getting !  Mother  asked  what  we  were  going  to 
give  :  for  she  's  as  proud  and  avaricious  for  Marian  as  she  can 
be,  and  drums  up  them  that  don't  give  something,  not  asking 
'em  out  and  out,  as  she  did  me,  but  throwing  out  pretty  strong 
hints,  and  showing  the  cards  attached  to  the  presents,  with 
the  givers'  names  on  'em,  and  making  you  feel  that 't  will  be 
a  disgrace  to  you  if  there 's  no  occasion  for  a  card  with  your 
name.  But  I  can't,  for  the  life  of  me,  think  of  anything  within 
our  means  that  would  be  considered  any  present  at  all,  after 
what  Marian  has  got." 

"  I  should  think  you  were  giving  enough,  in  the  sewing  you 
are  doing  for  her,"  said  Mrs.  Chilgrove. 

"Bless you!  she  don't  think  anything  of  that.  What  did 
she  send  me  this  morning,  Geordie,  but  three  pairs  of  ruffled 
pillow-cases  to  make  up  for  her !  You  know,  I  never  could 
afford  to  make  a  pair  for  myself,  with  all  my  other  work  ;  but 
I  can  make  them  for  her  !  Will  you  believe  it,  Mrs.  Chil- 
grove, she  never  did  a  stitch  of  sewing. for  me  or  the  baby, 
when  I  've  thought  she  might  just  as  well  as  not,  sometimes. 


192  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

But  what  touches  me  most  is  that  she  don't  do  even  for  her- 
self. She  is  cutting  around  with  her  dear  Adolphus,  or 
arranging  some  flowers  he  has  sent  her,  or  attending  to  some 
silly  little  ornamental  trash  or  other,  which  would  be  all  well 
enough,  if  she  had  leisure  for  it,  and  didn't  have  to  lay  ever^-- 
body  else  under  contribution  to  get  things  done  which  she 
ought  to  give  a  little  time  to  herself." 

"That's  the  way  of  the  world,"  said  Mrs.  Chilgrove. 
"  Some  are  born  to  do  everything  for  others,  and  some  are 
born  to  have  everything  done  for  them." 

"  It 's  about  so,"  said  Lottie,  looking  very  thoughtful,  over 
the  pillow-cases.  "  I  don't  mean  to  be  envious.  I  don't 
regret  at  all  that  Geordie  and  I  were  married  as  quietly  as  we 
M'ere,  —  just  a  few  friends  present,  no  parade  at  all, — for  I 
should  prefer  to  do  just  so  again.  But  when  I  see  this  fuss 
made  over  her  wedding,  as  if  she  were  a  princess,  and  I  a 
nobody,  I  can't  help  feeling  it,  there.  " 

And  Lottie,  having  spoken,  felt  better. 

A  few  days  before  the  wedding  was  to  take  place,  Mrs. 
Fenway  came  in,  flushed  and  worried,  to  make  Lottie  a  new 
proposition. 

"  Things  are  huddlmg  up  dreadfully  at  the  close  !  "  said 
she.  "  Dear  IMarian's  dresses  ain't  anywhere  near  done  yet. 
Some  things  she  'U  actually  need  for  the  occasion,  or  on  the 
wedding  tour,  can't  possibly  be  got  ready  without  we  all  take 
hold  and  help." 

"  I  have  n't  done  much  else  but  take  hold  and  help,  for  the 
past  month,"  replied  Lottie, 

"  I  know ;  and  now  you  've  got  those  ruffled  pillow-slips. 
But  you  can  put  all  but  one  pair  ofT,  and  do  them  after  the 
wedding,  and  before  they  get  back  from  their  journey." 

"  I  think  people  who  intend  to  make  a  great  wedding 
should  take  plenty  of  time  for  it,  and  not  put  everybody  in  a 
panic  to  help  them  through  at  last." 


ENGAGED.  I93 

"  Lottie  !  "  Mrs.  Fenway  began,  but  remembered  that  she 
had  come  to  ask  a  favor.  "  I  don't  wonder  you  think  so. 
The  time  is  too  short.  But  Mr.  Dr  skill  would  set  an  early 
day.  He  is  n't  a  man  to  be  put  ofT,  —  he's  so  fond  of  dear 
Marian!  Come,  now,  Lottie,  you  ha^'en't  much  to  do,  with 
your  small  family,  —  why  can't  you  and  your  friend,  Mrs. 
Chilgrove,  come  and  do  some  sewing  for  us  at  the  house  ? 
For  there  are  some  kinds  of  sewing  we  can't  very  well  let  go 
out  of  the  house,  you  know." 

"  Bless  you,  I  've  got  to  get  myself  ready  for  the  wedding 
yet ;  and  I  don't  know  what  under  the  sun  I  'm  going  to 
wear." 

"  Oh,  you  can  think  of  that  afterwards.  Come,  both  of 
you,  and  bring  the  baby,  and  have  Geordie  come  up  to  tea. 
WTiat  do  you  sa}-,  ]\Irs,  Chili;rove  ?  " 

The  quiet  lady  had  not  yet  touched  needle  to  anything  of 
Marian's,  but  had  worked  for  Lottie  while  Lottie  worked  for 
her  sister.  She  did  not  immediately  reply,  but  stitched  on  in 
silence,  with  her  face  bent  quite  low,  so  that  the  fa'nt  green- 
ish cast  that  came  over  it,  and  the  bitter  smile  that  writhed 
across  it,  were  hardly  perceived.  Then  she  answered, 
without  looking  up, — 

"  It  shall  be  as  Lottie  says." 

So  it  happened  that  they  went  up  the  next  day  to  the 
assistance  of  Marian's  dress-makers. 


13 


194  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


DRESS-MAKING. 


It  was  Mrs.  Chilgrove's  first  appearance  in  Waybrook  soci- 
ety. Lottie  and  Geordie  had  discreetly  kept  to  themselves 
■what  little  they  knew  of  her  history;  but,  thanks  to  Bob 
Styles  and  the  Wintergreen  sisters,  she  was  already  well  if 
not  very  favorably  known  to  the  good  people  of  the  village. 

*'  I  do  declare,"  said  Mrs.  Wetherspun,  who  had  come  in  to 
see  if  her  pair  of  stockings  were  placed  on  exhibition  with 
Marian's  other  presents,  "if  you  hain't  got  that  Mis'  Shil- 
grove  to  sewin'  for  ye  !     Ain't  ye  'fraid  ? " 

"  Afraid  of  what?  "  said  Mrs.  Fenway. 

*'  Why  !  jest  think  of  the  awful  stories  Bob  Styles  told  about 
her  !  Miss  Abby  says  she  wonders  Lottie  will  have  her  in  the 
house.     Who  under  the  canopy  is  she,  anyway?" 

"You  must  ask  her.  And  for  the  present,  I  must  beg 
you  to  excuse  me,  Mrs.  Wetherspun,  I  've  so  much  to  do." 

"Oh!"  said  Mrs.  Wetherspun  with  her  most  formidable 
scowl.  "  I  suppose  !  sartin  !  But  you  hain't  told  me  yit  what 
Marian  said  to  the  stockin's.  I  hope  she  noticed  they  're  re'l 
warm  ones  ;  and  they  're  about  the  longest  pair  I  ever  knit. 
I  don't  see  as  she's  put  'em  among  her  perty  presents  yit." 

"  She  '11  have  them  attended  to  in  time.  And,  I  'm  sure, 
she  's  ever  so  much  obliged  to  you." 

"  Oh,  not  at  all ! "  said  Mrs.  Wetherspun,  glad  to  hear 
it.  "  One  minute.  Mis'  Fenway ! "  she  added,  thinking  it 
hardly  fair  that  she  should  be  hurried  out  of  the  parlor  where 
the  presents  and  the  company  were,  and  dropped  in  the  sit- 


DRESS-MAKING.  I95 

ting-room  in  tnis  abrupt  way.  "If  you've  no  objection,  I 
should  like  to  step  back  an'  see  the  dress-makin'  goin'  on,  it 's 
sich  a  dreffle  perty  sight.  I  never  did  see  sich  sweet  perty 
gownds  in  all  my  born  days.  As  I  say  to  my  husband  a'most 
every  night  of  my  life,  '  Only  to  think,'  I  says,  '  of  one  of  the 
Fenway  gals  makin'  out  so  well  ! '  'Sides,  I  want  to  git  an- 
other squint  at  that  'ere  Mis'  Shilgrove."  Mrs.  Fenway  said 
pettishly  that  she  did  n't  know  of  any  reason  why  she  should  n't, 
"  treatin'  me  right  down  rude,  now,"  Mrs.  Wetherspun  after- 
wards complained  to  her  husband  ;  "  for  she  's  terrible  stuck 
up.  Mis'  Fenway  is,  ever  sence  that  Daskill  has  been  payin' 
'tention  to  Marian.  I  must  say,  I  thought  it  right  down  mean, 
'specially  arter  the  stockin's  I  've  knit  for  the  gal.  Ketch  me 
a  knittin'  of  her  any  more,  if  she  goes  barefoot !  " 

She  smothered  her  resentment  at  the  time,  however,  and 
returned  to  the  parlor,  and  sat  down  with  her  things  on, 
because  nobody  asked  her  to  take  them  off,  and  scowled  on 
Lottie,  and  looked  sour  at  the  "  sweet  perty  gownds,"  and 
had  a  long  squint,  and  a  strong  squint,  and  (I  regret  to  add) 
a  particularly  disagreeable  squint,  at  "that  'ere  Mis'  Shil- 
grove," who  never  once  rewarded  her  curiosity  by  lifting  her 
eyes  from  her  work.  At  length,  as  her  presence  seemed  to 
cast  a  shadow  on  the  sociability,  she  took  her  leave,  a  minute 
too  soon, -as  she  found. 

"There!"  thought  she,  "if  I'd  stayed  a  leetle  longer,  I 
sh'd  'a'  seen  Mr.  Daskill  !  There  he  comes,  with  Geordie 
Lorkins,  both  invited  to  supper,  I  warrant  !  I  should  think, 
arter  that  pair  o'  stockin's,  I  'd  oughter  been  asked  to  stay. 
But  we  're  sich  grand  folks  now,  since  we  've  got  a  rich  mer- 
chant a  courtin'  our  darter  !  I  've  as  good  a  mind  to  make  an 
arrant  to  go  back  as  ever  I  had  to  eat !  " 

Geordie  had  just  fallen  in  with  Adolphus  on  the  street, 
and,  as  both  chanced  to  be  going  to  the  same  jilace,  they 
went  together.     Mr.  Daskill,  however,  came  uninvited. 


196  farnell's  folly. 

"  The  idea  of  asking  him  to  tea  with  such  a  perfect  drove 
of  dress-makers  ! "  Mrs.  Fenway  had  said ;  and  it  would 
hardly  have  been  considered  a  fair  thing,  in  Waybrook  soci- 
ety, to  set  those  useful  and  respectable  ladies  down  at  a 
second  table.  Great,  therefore,  was  the  good  housewife's  dis- 
may on  seeing  Adolphus  —  now  a  familiar  visitor  at  the 
house  —  walk  in  with  Lottie's  husband. 

Geordie  led  the  way  to  the  parlor,  saying,  "  I  always  go 
where  the  most  women-folks  are,  don't  you .''  "  And  the  fas- 
tidious Adolphus  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  the  drove  of 
dress-makers  before  he  knew  it.  Even  if  he  had  come  to  take 
tea,  which  indeed  had  not  been  his  intention,  the  sight  would 
most  likely  have  caused  him  to  change  his  mind  ;  and  he  was 
politely  retreating  into  the  entry,  saying  he  had  only  called 
to  speak  with  Miss  Fenway  a  moment,  when  Geordie,  after 
the  ridiculous  fashion  of  some  people,  who  think  they  must 
introduce  everybody  on  all  occasions,  began,  — 

"  Miss  Clewsey,  Mr.  Daskill ;  Mrs.  Thackers  ;  and  this  is 
my  wife."  Adolphus  remarked  with  suavity  that  he  had  had 
tie  pleasure  of  meeting  Mrs.  Lorkins. 

"  Mrs.  Chilgrove,"  —  Mrs.  Chilgrove  had  not  yet  looked 
up,  —  "  let  me  make  you  acquainted  with  Mr.  Daskill."  She 
looked  up  then,  bowing  civilly  but  coolly,  and  went  on  with 
her  work.  "  And  this,"  said  Geordie,  as  Marian  came  into 
the  room,  "  is  my  wife's  sister.  Marian,  my  friend,  Mr.  Das- 
kill. I  'm  responsible  if  he  steals  anything,  as  folks  used  to 
say  when  they  introduced  their  friends  in  Californy." 

Adolphus  appeared  to  take  this  pleasantry  of  his  future 
brother-in-law  very  ill.  He  had  advanced  into  the  room,  and 
made  a  step  toward  Mrs.  Chilgrove  ;  and  now  he  turned  to 
greet  the  blushing  Marian.  Black  Nance,  who  at  the  same 
time  peeped  in  to  count  heads  for  the  table,  told  the  writer  of 
this  history,  long  after,  that  he  looked  for  a  moment  much  as 
he  did  when  she  gave  him  the   mysterious  ring.     The  cloud 


DRESS-MAKING.  1 97 

passed  from  his  brow  almost  immediately,  however,  in  the 
sunshine  of  Marian's  loveliness  ;  although  the  latter  noticed 
that  he  was  not  appearing  well. 

"  You  will  stay  to  tea,  won't  you  ?  "  the  dear  girl  fondly 
inquired. 

"  It  was  not  my  intention,"  said  Adolphus  hesitatingly,  he 
who  so  rarely  hesitated  in  any  emergency. 

"  Are  you  ill  ?  "  she  whispered. 

"Nothing  serious  —  a  slight  headache.  A  cup  of  your 
mother's  tea  will  cure  it.     I  believe  I  '11  stay." 

"  Here,  Nance  !  come  here  !  "  cried  Geordie.  "  That 's 
the  chick  I  told  you  about,  Mrs.  Chilgrove." 

"I  have  seen  her  —  more  than  once,"  said  Mrs.  Chilgrove, 
in  her  low,  equable  voice,  just  lifting  her  eyes. 

"Have  you  noticed  her,  Mr.  Daskill  ?  " 

"I  believe  you  introduced  me,"  said  Adolphus,  again 
politely  inclining  his  head  toward  Mrs.  Chilgrove,  —  an 
extraordinary  instance  of  blundering  absent-mindedness  on 
his  part.  « 

"Not  her.  I  meant  Nance,"  laughed  Geordie.  "Come 
in  here,  Nance,  and  make  some  fun  for  us." 

"  Can't !  Mrs.  Fenway  '11  be  after  me  !  "  And  Nance  ran 
giggling  away. 

"  She  'II  tickle  ye  just  about  to  death,  if  you  can  git  her  to 
cut  up  once  the  funniest  she  knows  how,"  said  Geordie. 
"  Believe  me  or  not,  Mr.  Daskill,  I  '11  tell  ye  what  she  used  to 
do  for  me.  I  had  a  boss  that  was  the  confoundest  contrary 
critter  you  ever  did  see  about  taking  in  the  bits.  I  always 
had  a  row  with  him  when  I  went  to  put  on  his  bridle.  He  'd 
shet  his  teeth  as  if  he  had  the  lockjaw,  and  't  would  some- 
times take  me  an  hour,  or  considerably  less,  to  pry  'em  apart ; 
he  'd  back,  and  rare,  and  fling,  and  I  'd  hang  on,  and  screw 
my  t'numb  into  his  gums,  and  saw  with  the  bits,  till  by  'n'  by 
he  'd  get  tuckered  out,  and  give  up.     But    I  was  generally 


198  farnell's  folly. 

tuckered  out  myself  by  that  time.  So  I  tried  a  new  trick. 
Got  Nance  to  help.     You  can't  guess  how." 

"  No,  your  conundrum  is  too  heavy  for  me,"  said  Adolphus, 
pleasantly. 

"  She  was  a  little  tud  then.  And  comical  ?  You  bet !  I 
would  just  put  her  in  position  on  the  grass ;  then  I  'd  lead  the 
critter  out.  '  Now  cut  up !  make  faces !  throw  yourself, 
Nance  ! '  I  'd  say ;  and  she  'd  begin.  I  always  had  to  look 
away,  for  if  I  did  n't,  I  laughed  myself  into  knots  and  kinks, 
so  I  could  n't  do  anything.  You  see,  't  was  the  effect  on  the 
hoss  I  was  waiting  for.  First,  he  'd  regard  her  in  mild  aston- 
ishment ;  then  with  a  genial  kind  of  smile  ;  then  with  a  tre- 
menjous  grin  ;  finally,  he  'd  throw  out  his  head,  and  bust  into 
a  reg'lar  hoss-laugh,  mouth  wide  open,  and  in  would  go  the 
bits  'fore  he  could  say  'Jack  Robinson  ! '  " 

"  Geordie,  who  do  you  think  is  going  to  believe  that  non- 
sense > "  said  Lottie. 

"  I  've  nothing  to  say  for  the  rest  of  you.  And  as  for  me," 
Geordie  replied,  "  I  ain't  exactly  like  old  Uncle  Tibbetts,  v,ho 
used  to  tell  his  story  about  the  witches  whetting  his  scythe 
till  he  finally  got  to  believe  it  himself.  He  said  he  went  out 
to  mow  the  next  morning,  '  and  sure  's  I  'm  a  livin'  human 
bein'  accountable  to  my  Maker,'  says  he,  'that  'ere  scythe 
'u'd  jest  slide  through  the  grass  as  it  would  through  air,  an' 
the  grass  'u'd  jest  close  right  up  agin  arter  it,  an'  stand 
edzac'ly  as  if 't  had  n't  been  cut  at  all.  I  like  a  toler'ble 
sharp  scythe  to  mow  with,'  says  the  old  man ;  '  but  I  'm  blest,' 
says  he,  '  if  I  want  the  witches  to  whet  for  me  agin  ! '  " 

Mr.  Daskill  was  getting  used  to  Geordie's  jokes.  He  now 
laughed  more  heartily  at  them  than  Marian  had  ever  seen 
him  laugh  before.  He  also  told  some  agreeable  stories  (in 
spite  of  his  headache),  and  made  himself  delightfully  at  home. 
He  discussed  with  the  dress-makers  the  merits  of  the  mate- 
rials they  were  at  work  upon,  and  treated  everybody  with  such 


DRESS-MAKING. 


199 


affability  that  Miss  Clewsey  and  Mrs.  Thackers  (as  Marian 
could  see)  were  charmed  with  him.  It  was  not  easy  to  dis- 
cover how  Mrs.  Chilgrove  regarded  him,  she  was  such  a  very 
quiet  person.  He  seemed  resolved  to  make  himself  agreeable 
to  her,  however,  and  drew  his  chair  near  hers. 

"  This  is  a  fine  piece  of  goods,  Mrs.  —  " 

He  had  forgotten  the  name,  and  she  had  to  prompt  him. 

"  Chilgrove,"  she  said,  politely  ceasing  to  sew  while  he 
examined  the  fabric. 

"You  seldom  see  a  lovelier  gloss,"  observed  Adolphus. 

"  The  surface  is  beautiful,  but  one  cannot  always  judge  by 
the  surface,"  replied  Mrs.  Chilgrove. 

"True.  But  the  surface  is  a  most  important  part,  in  a 
matter  of  this  kind."  He  held  the  silk  up  to  the  light,  and 
said,  quite  near  the  lady's  ear,  "  If  it  can  be  preserved  as  it 
is  for  only  a  short  time,  I  shall  be  satisfied,  I  shall  not  mind 
the  cost." 

The  announcement  of  tea  created  some  confusion.  Still 
Adolphus  appeared  interested  in  the  silk  with  the  lovely 
gloss.  "  I  am  anxious  that  this  should  be  a  perfect  success," 
he  said.     "Money  is  no  consideration." 

Mrs,  Chilgrove  smiled,  with  her  peculiarly  intense,  quiet 
look,  and  answered,  — 

"The  least  exposure  will  ruin  it.  Oh,  yes,"  she  added, 
seeing  Marian  approach,  "  I  think  it  becomes  her.  It  is  just 
the  shade  to  suit  her  complexion." 

"I  am  so  glad  you  like  it,"  said  Marian,  beautiful  and 
happy. 

Mrs.  Chilgrove  cast  a  fold  of  the  silk  over  the  fair  form. 

"  Allow  me  to  say,  Mr.  Daskill,  I  admire  your  taste,  both  in 
silks  and  shoulders." 

"I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart!"  said  Adolphus,  with 
rather  effusive  friendliness,  considering  the  occasion.  And, 
ofTering  Mrs.  Lorkins  his  arm,  he  led  her  out  to  tea. 


200  FARNELLS    FOLLY. 


CHAPTER  XXIIx. 

MRS.    FENWAY   VISITS    BLUEBEARD's    CASTLE. 

It  would  be  edifying,  if  we  had  leisure,  to  sit  down  with  the 
pleasant  company  at  Mrs.  Fenway's  table.  To  see  Mr. 
Fenway  so  hospitable  and  good-humored,  Geordie  full  of  his 
jokes,  the  boys  bright-faced  and  well-behaved,  Adolphus  in 
excellent  spirits,  Marian  blushing  and  beautiful,  Mrs.  Chil- 
grove  reserved  yet  serene,  and  the  rest  cheerful  if  not  merry, 
who  would  have  supposed  there  could  be  anything  but  sin- 
cerity and  happiness  and  good-will  in  that  small  circle  ? 

Even  Mrs.  Fenway,  mortified  as  she  had  been  at  Mr. 
Daskill's  inopportune  arrival,  and  seriously  inclined  as  she 
was  to  be  vexed  with  him  for  having  so  long  prevented  her 
from  seeing  Marian's  future  home,  forgot  her  resentment, 
and  turned  out  the  silver  lining  of  her  cloudy  disposition  on 
the  festive  occasion. 

She  had  firmly  resolved  not  to  mention  the  proposed  visit 
again  to  Adolphus;  but  he  appeared  so  very  gracious  that 
night,  and  she  was  really  in  such  a  fidget  to  inspect  the  premises 
(as  she  afterwards  owned),  that  she  ventured  once  more  to 
advance  the  now  stereotyped  inquiry,  as  he  was  about  taking 
leave,  "When,  Mr.  Daskill,  are  you  going  to  carry  me  up  to 
see  the  new  house,  as  you  promised  ?  " 

"  I  am  ready  now  at  any  time,  and  have  been  for  a  week," 
answered  the  bland  Adolphus. 

As  it  was  a  week  since  she  had  ceased  to  agitate  the  sub- 
ject, during  which  time  she  had  been  waiting  silently,  but  not 
without   much   pent-up   feeling,  for   him  to  propose  it,  this 


MRS,    FENWAY   VISITS    BLUEBEARDS    CASTLE.         2CI 

cool  announcement  proved  rather  irritating  to  the  vivacious 
lady.  "Why  on  earth,  then,  didn't  you  tell  nie?"  she  said, 
whh.  a  spark  —  only  a  spark  —  of  impatience  in  her  sprightly 
eyes. 

"  I  saw  you  were  very  much  occupied,"  replied  Adolphus, 
"  and  supposed,  when  you  were  at  leisure,  you  would  remind 
me." 

"  I  had  already  reminded  you  till  I  was  tired  of  reminding, 
and  thought  you  might  be  tired  of  being  reminded,"  said  Mrs. 
Fenway,  "  But  if  you  nov/  say  you  are  ready,  I  '11  remind 
you  once  more,  and  I  hope  for  the  last  time." 

She  had  a  tart  way  of  expressing  herself,  even  when  she 
meant  to  be  perfectly  respectful  and  conciliating. 

"Name  the  hour!"  said  Adolphus;  and  she  promptly 
named  nine  o'clock  the  next  morning.  "Let  me  see  !  "  then 
says  the  man  of  business.  "  I  may  go  to  Buffalo  to-morrow. 
I  rather  think  I  shall.  Suppose,  then,  we  say  the  first  morn- 
ing after  my  return." 

Mrs.  Fenway  was  so  nettled  at  this  unexpected  and  truly 
Daskilian  turn,  that  she  could  not  trust  herself  to  say  a  word, 
but  gulped  back  something  that  rose  in  her  throat,  and  smiled 
him  a  sardonic  good  night. 

Geordie's  party  happened  to  be  going  at  the  same  time; 
and,  as  Geordie  carried  the  baby,  Adolphus  offered  his  escort 
to  the  ladies.  Lottie  thanked  him,  but  said  she  would  walk 
with  her  husband.  Mrs.  Chilgrove,  however,  accepted  the 
arm  so  civilly  proffered,  Marian  holding  a  light  for  them  at 
the  door. 

"  How  kind  and  polite  he  is  to  ever)-body  !  "  thought  the 
dear  girl,  who  was  always  anxiously  on  the  watch  for  oppor- 
tunities to  praise  him  to  herself,  and  nurse  her  feeble  heart. 

But  Mrs.  Fenway's  looks  and  gestures,  as  she  vigorously 
set  back  the  parlor  chairs,  making  more  noise  than  was,  per- 
haps, actually  necessary,  betrayed  a  less  happy  frame  of  mind. 


202  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

Her  husband  broke  into  a  laugh.  "  I  should  like  to  see  any- 
body else  but  your  fine  Mr.  Daskill  snub  you  in  that  way," 
said  he.  "I  rather  think  you'd  do  something  besides  slam- 
ming chairs  back  after  he  was  gone." 

"  I  don't  care  !  it 's  real  aggravating,  no  matter  who  't  is  1 
Though,  of  course,  he  didn't  mean  it,"  she  added,  seeing  a 
shadow  on  Marian's  face. 

From  that  moment  she  kept  her  own  counsel  on  the  sub- 
ject; but  she  did  not  cease  to  chafe  inwardly,  saying  to 
herself,  "I  shall  never  see  the  house  at  this  rate.  He'll 
have  some  plaguy  excuse  or  another  for  putting  me  off  when 
he  comes  back.  I  've  a  good  mind  to  go  alone  !  There  's 
one  thing,  I  sha'n't  always  be  so  dreadfully  afraid  of  offending 
his  majesty  !  "  and  that  was  some  comfort. 

She  pondered  the  matter  a  good  deal  that  night  and  the 
next  day.  Why  not  make  a  quiet  visit  to  the  house  during 
his  absence  ?  "  What  has  he  got  shut  up  there  he  don't  want 
me  to  see  ?  I  must  n't  go  without  him,  and  he  's  never  ready 
to  go  with  me.  Tlie  idea  !  Marian  has  a  key :  I  can  take  that. 
I  won't  let  her  know,  so  that  Mr.  Bluebeard  can't  blame  her 
if  he  finds  out.  I'll  just  say  nothing,  but  after  tea  —  the 
workmen  will  be  gone  by  that  time  —  I  '11  make  an  errand  on 
the  street,  and  see  his  castle  before  ever  I  come  home,  if  I  die 
for  it ! "  She  abstracted  the  key  accordingly,  and  supper  done, 
remarked  that  she  thought  she  would  just  slip  on  her  bonnet, 
and  step  out  and  buy  a  few  yards  more  of  that  braid.  So 
great  was  her  eagerness  that  she  reached  the  Folly  before  the 
workmen  were  all  gone. 

"They'll  go  and  report  right  to  him,  if  I  stop  now," 
she  said  to  herself.  "  I  '11  just  step  up  to  the  seminary  and 
pay  for  Marian's  last  quarter,  and  stop  on  my  way  back." 
This  she  did.  But  Miss  Maybloom  was  a  great  talker,  and 
she  could  not  get  away  from  her  until  it  was  almost  too  late 
to  think  of  going  into  the  house  at  all  that  night.     She  deter- 


MRS.    FENWAY    VISITS    BLUEBEARD  S    CASTLE.         203 

mined  just  to  peep  in,  however,  if  nothing  more  ;  so  she  took 
a  side  path  through  the  newly  planted  shrubber)^  to  the  rear 
of  the  house.  All  was  quiet;  it  was  now  twilight.  She  had 
learned  from  Marian  which  door  the  key  fitted :  she  found  it, 
fitted  it,  and  went  in. 

"  The  blinds  were  all  shut "  (so  the  good  lady  was  accus- 
tomed to  continue  the  narrative  in  after  years),  "  and  it  looked 
so  dark  inside,  I  left  the  door  open  a  few  inches,  to  let  in  a 
little  glimmer  of  the  sunset  light,  which  had  almost  faded  out 
of  the  sky  by  this  time.  First,  was  a  rear  entr}',  next  to  that 
was  the  conservator}^  which  was  as  light  as  the  twilight  could 
make  it.  Then  I  went  into  the  parlors ;  but  all  the  light  I 
could  get  there  was  through  the  conservatory  doors,  for  the 
blinds  were  all  closed,  and  I  couldn't  open  one  of  'em  if  I 
was  to  die;  the  new-fangled  fastenings  beat  w<?/" 

She  found  blinds  of  the  same  baffling  character  everywhere, 
as  from  room  to  room  she  went,  and  pushed,  and  wrenched, 
and  got  angr)',  to  no  purpose.  Here  she  was  in  the  grand, 
great  house,  and  it  appeared  that  she  was  not  to  see  it  after 
all.  It  was  more  of  a  Bluebeard's  castle  than  she  had  antici- 
pated. To  the  feeling  of  triumph,  tempered  by  trepidation, 
with  which  she  had  first  entered,  a  sort  of  superstitious  fear 
succeeded.  Silence  and  mystery  pervaded  the  void  and 
gloomy  apartments,  and  it  seemed  almost  as  if  she  might  get 
lost  in  them.  Whence  the  cold  revulsion  that  came  over  her, 
as  she  recalled  the  feelings  of  maternal  ambition  with  which 
she  had  been  wont  to  contemplate  Marian's  proud  future  as 
lady  of  the  castle  ? 

She  came  to  the  great,  dark  staircase,  and,  though  her 
mind  misgave  her  at  every  step,  began  the  dim  ascent,  saw  a 
ghost  when  half-way  up,  which  turned  out  to  be  a  bust  in  a 
niche,  and  reached  the  landing  above,  with  creepings  and 
curdlings  of  flesh. 

She  determined  to  make  one  more  effort  for  a  little  light. 


204  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

and  raised  the  upper  hall  window,  to  get  at  the  blinds  there. 
She  was  struggling  to  open  them,  when  a  door  shut  below  with 
a  noise  that  echoed  ominously  through  the  empty  apartments. 
She  started  back  in  terror,  and  listened  to  hear  if  anybody 
was  coming.  But  the  house  was  quiet  as  a  tomb.  Then  she 
groped  her  way  down-stairs,  afraid  of  meeting  somebody,  or 
somebody's  ghost,  at  every  turn. 

Suddenly  a  bell  tinkled  in  a  distant  part  of  the  house. 

"  That  frightened  me  almost  out  of  my  wits,  for  I  did  n't 
really  believe  there  was  a  living  soul  on  the  premises  but 
myself,  and  I  know  now  there  wasn't.  I  had  never  heard  of 
a  house  being  haunted  before  it  was  finished  or  inhabited,  but 
the  Folly  seemed  an  exception.  I  'd  have  given  anything  to 
be  out  of  it.  I  made  my  way  to  the  rear  entry,  and  looked 
for  the  gleam  of  light  from  the  door  I  'd  left  partly  open  ; 
but  it  was  dark  there  too,  and  I  found  to  my  horror  that  't  was 
that  door  which  had  slammed  !  I  rushed  to  it  and  tried  to 
open  it,  but  'twas  locked.  It  was  on  the  south  side  of  the 
house.  I  had  opened  a  window  on  the  north  side,  and  I 
remembered  that  the  wind  came  in  fresh  and  strong,  while  I 
was  at  work  at  the  blinds ;  circulating  through,  it  had  blown 
the  door  to,  I  suppose.  But  how  about  the  ringing  of  the 
bell  ?  It  was  not  until  long  after,  when  I  had  leisure  to  look 
over  the  house  by  daylight,  that  I  found  out  an  explanation  of 
that  mystery.  Probably,  in  groping  my  way  along  by  the 
wall,  I  had  somehow  moved  one  of  those  little  cranks  which 
they  have  nowadays  instead  of  the  old-fashioned  bell-cords, 
and  I  had  been  the  bell-ringing  ghost  myself ! 

"  It 's  all  clear  to  me  now,  and  I  can  laugh  at  it.  But  I 
did  n't  feel  much  like  laughing  then,  I  can  tell  you,  especially 
when  I  found  I  could  n't  get  that  door  open  again  to  save  me. 
I  had  really  come  in  with  a  latch  key ;  but  I  did  n't  know  any 
more  about  those  new-fangled  spring  latches  than  the  man  in 
the  moon.     The  door  had  shut,  the  latch  had  sprung,  and 


MRS.    FENWAY    VISITS    BLUEBEARD  S    CASTLE.  205 

there  I  was!  I  might  have  studied  the  thing  out  by  daylight, 
and  in  my  sober  senses  ;  but  what  could  a  poor  frightened 
creature  do  in  the  dark  ?  I  could  n't  have  been  more  effectu- 
ally shut  up  if  I  had  been  in  a  jail.  And  all  the  while  it  was 
growing  darker  and  darker.  *  Mercy  me,'  thinks  I,  '  what  will 
the  folks  say?'  As  I  hadn't  told  where  I  was  going,  of 
course,  they  would  never  think  of  coming  to  look  for  me 
there ;  but  I  could  fancy  them  sitting  up  for  me,  hour  after 
hour,  and  wondering  what  could  have  become  of  me  ;  inquir- 
ing at  the  neighbors,  and  finally  rousing  the  town  at  midnight, 
and  getting  up  a  grand  hunt  for  me,  with  lanterns,  and  torches, 
and  tin  horns,  and  no  end  of  absurdities !  Of  course,  Mr. 
Daskill  would  hear  of  it, — ever\^body  would  hear  of  it;  and 
the  name  of  Farnell's  Folly  would  probably  be  changed  to 
Mrs.  Fenway's  Silliness  from  that  night." 

It  occurred  to  her  that  she  might  break  one  of  the  conser- 
vatory windows,  and  walk  out ;  or  one  of  the  lower  blinds, 
and  crawl  out.  Before  proceeding  to  such  extremities,  she 
resolved  to  grope  her  way  back  to  the  upper  entry  window 
which  she  nad  left  open,  and  see  if  anybody  was  near. 

*'Whv,  yes!"  said  she,  peering  through  the  interstices  of 
the  blinds;  "there  is  somebody!  O  dear!  shall  I  call  for 
help,  and  have  'em  go  for  a  workman  that 's  got  a  key  ?  S/iaH 
I  scream  ?  They  '11  say,  '  Who  are  you  ? '  I  '11  say,  '  No  mat- 
ter, but  come  and  help!' — for  maybe  they  can  open  the 
blinds.  They  '11  ask,  *  Where  are  you  ? '  and  I  '11  have  to 
answer,  *  Here,  shut  up  in  Farnell's  Folly  ! '  Oh,  I  'd  give 
the  world  to  know  who  it  is  !" 

She  was  destined  to  gain  the  wished-for  knowledge  —  a  part 
of  it  at  least — without  paying  so  extravagant  a  price.  She 
heard  footsteps  on  the  gravelled  walk  below,  and  saw  two 
figures.  They  had  entered  at  the  gate  ;  they  were  approach- 
ing the  house.  One  was  a  woman  whom  she  could  not  recog- 
nize in  the  deep  gloom  that  now  overshadowed  everything. 


2o6  farnell's  folly. 

The  other  was  a  gentleman,  whose  port  was  unmistakable, 
even  in  that  obscurity. 

Mrs.  Fenway  did  not  call  for  help  to  the  man  most  capable  of 
rendering  it.  She  was  too  much  astonished  to  do  anything 
but  lean  gasping  by  the  window,  and  gaze  down  through  the 
blinds.  She  had  thought  her  Bluebeard  in  a  distant  city,  and 
here  he  was  at  the  door. 

But  perhaps  he  would  not  come  into  the  house.  It  is  hard 
to  say  whether  she  hoped  he  would  or  hoped  he  wouldn't. 
She  dreaded  discovery.  Yet  she  prayed  for  the  unlocking  of 
a  door,  and  she  was  now  possessed  with  a  burning  curiosity  to 
know  who  the  woman  was. 

"  Surely,  it  caiit  be  Marian  !  Who  then  can  it  be,  here 
alone  with  him  at  this  time  of  night !  " 

They  passed  from  sight  under  the  porch.  Then  INIrs.  Fen- 
way heard  the  creaking  of  a  key  (not  a  latch-key)  as  it  turned 
in  the  lock.  The  door  was  opened  and  closed  again,  and 
there  were  footsteps  in  the  hall  below. 

"  We  shall  be  quiet  in  here,  and  we  can  talk  without  being 
overheard,"  said  the  voice  of  Adolphus.  "  This  way !  — 
can  you  see  ?  We  shall  find  some  lights  in  the  conserva- 
tory." 

As  they  passed  on  through  the  dark  entr}',  Mrs.  Fenway's 
fears  prompted  her  to  steal  down  the  stairs,  and  make  good 
her  escape  from  the  front  door.  At  every  downward  step, 
however,  that  impulse  grew  weaker  and  her  curiosity  grew 
stronger,  until  she  was  ready  to  brave  new  trials  in  order  to 
fathom  the  mystery. 

She  crept  across  the  hall  as  noiselessly  as  she  could,  al- 
though her  shoes  would  creak  and  her  dress  would  rustle,  and 
she  feared  that  even  her  breathing  and  the  beating  of  her 
heart  might  be  overheard  ;  and  got  as  far  as  the  second  door 
leading  to  the  parlor.  Through  this  Adolphus  and  his  com- 
panion had  passed.     She  could  hear  their  voices  farther  on, 


MRS.    FENWAY    VISITS    BI-UEBEAID  3    CASTLE.        20/ 

but  was  afraid  to  advance,  for  before  her  now  were  tlie  win- 
dows of  the  conservatory',  seen  through  an  open  doonvay; 
and  cut  in  full-length  silhouette  against  that  glimmering  back- 
ground, haughtily  erect,  was  the  startling  likeness  of  her  fu- 
ture son-in-law. 

There  Mrs.  Fenway  paused  and  leaned,  with  her  feet  in 
the  hall,  her  head  in  the  parlor,  and  her  panting  bosom 
pressed  against  the  dividing  door-frame,  where  she  looked 
and  listened  with  all  her  might.  The  lady  was  not  visible, 
and  her  voice,  covered  by  the  partition,  was  scarcely  audible 
where  Mrs.  Fenway  stood.  But  Mr.  Daskill's  low,  but  earn- 
est and  distinct  tones  reached  her  ears.  He  was  saying  im- 
periously,— 

"  It  can't  be  prevented.  Make  all  the  revelations  you  like. 
I  can  forestall  them." 

Then  came  some  rapid  syllables  from  the  lady,  which  poor 
Mrs.  Fenway  held  her  breath,  and  would  willingly  have 
stopped  her  heart,  in  order  to  overhear.  She  caught  only  two 
or  three  angry  words,  —  "monstrous  perfidy,"  —  "revenge." 
Then  Adolphus  resumed, — 

"No  doubt  you  can  make  it  out  bad  enough,  if  you  tell 
your  stor)'.  But  it  won't  be  much  of  a  revenge.  I  can  deny 
ever}-thing  and  who  will  believe  you?  You  can  bring  your 
witnesses,  but  who  are  they  ? " 

Again  the  woman  said  something  behind  the  dividing  wall ; 
and  Adolphus  replied,  — 

"  I  don't  care  for  all  that.  I  shall  denounce  it  as  a  con- 
spiracv,  a  plot  to  black-mail  me.  You  can't  win  at  that  game. 
I  have  some  character  and  standing  in  society  :  what  have  you  ? 
It  is  for  the  interest  of  certain  persons  to  believe  in  me,  and 
thev  will  continue  to  believe  in  me,  in  spite  of  you." 

The  lady  was  speaking  again  ;  when  Adolphus—  still  in 
black  profile  against  the  glass,  his  hat  on,  his  head  high  — 
reached  out  his  hand,  and  snapped  his  fingers. 


2o8  farnell's  folly. 

"  That  for  the  old  lady!  You  never  can  induce  her  to 
break  off  the  match.  She  's  a  silly  fool  in  some  things  ;  but 
she  's  shrewd  enough  to  see  where  the  family  interest  lies.  I 
can  twist  her  around  my  finger." 

A  wonderful  sense  of  burning  and  faintness  came  over 
poor  Mrs.  Fenway,  who  seemed  to  be  listening  in  some  fright- 
ful dream.  The  lady  was  speaking  again ;  then  once  more 
Adolphus, — 

"  There  is  no  reason  why  we  should  n't  be  friends.  Let  the 
past  go.  It  can't  be  remedied  now.  I  can  explain  a  good 
many  things.  There 's  a  furnished  room  upstairs,  where  we 
can  sit  down  and  come  to  some  sort  of  understanding.  We 
can  help  each  other,  and  that  will  be  better  than  trying  to 
ruin  each  other." 

He  led  the  way  ;  and  Mrs.  Fenway  had  barely  time  to 
draw  back  into  the  hall  when  they  v/ent  by  her,  the  unknown 
woman's  dress  brushing  her  as  she  passed.  Almost  wild  in 
her  eagerness  to  hear  more,  she  started  to  follow  them,  and  had 
reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  when  a  light  from  above  sud- 
denly flashed  down  upon  her;  and  looking  up  she  saw  Mr. 
Daskill  standing  in  a  faint,  bluish  glare,  with  a  lighted  match 
in  his  fingers,  while  his  companion  passed  on  around  the 
curve  of  the  staircase. 

Had  Mr.  Daskill  at  the  same  time  looked  down,  he  might 
possibly  have  been  edified  by  the  sight  of  his  future  mother- 
in-law  crouching  back  like  some  wild  creature  under  the 
shadow  of  the  banisters.  When  she  ventured  forth  again, 
the  match  was  extinguished,  hall  and  staircase  were  dark,  and 
she  could  hear  the  footsteps  of  Adolphus  and  his  companion 
dying  away  in  the  chambers.  To  follow  them  seemed  a  dan- 
gerous and  hopeless  undertaking;  and  after  waiting  and  lis- 
tening long,  she  softly  opened  the  front  door,  and  stole  forth, 
like  a  thief,  from  the  house. 


MRS.    FENWAY  S    QUANDARY.  209 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 
MRS.  Fenway's  quandary. 

Mrs.  Fenway  was,  as  we  know,  human,  and  had  had,  in  the 
course  of  her  checkered  hfe,  some  tr^'ing  experiences.  She 
had  suffered  from  fear,  from  wounded  pride,  from  unappeased 
curiosity,  and  from  ebullient  irascibility  (like  the  most  of  us), 
on  divers  occasions ;  bat  never  before  had  she  been  mystified, 
mortified,  terrified,  and  infuriated,  all  at  once.  It  is  a  wonder 
that  she  did  net  betray  her  presence  to  Adolphus,  and  con- 
front him  and  the  unknown  lady  on  the  spot.  That  she  did 
not,  shows  how  easy  it  may  sometimes  be  for  a  person  of  the 
most  violent  temper  to  control  it  when  the  necessity  appears. 
She  reached  the  street  in  a  state  of  mind  bordering  on  in- 
sanity, casting  back  furious,  furtive  glances  at  the  house,  afraid 
to  be  seen  lurking  near,  yet  animated  by  a  wild  determination 
to  walk  up  and  down  the  hill  until  the  pair  should  come  forth. 
"  I  '11  see  who  she  is,  if  I  die.  Silly  fool,  am  I  ?  Can  wind 
me  round  his  little  finger,  can  he  ?  We  '11  see  !  I  declare,  if 
he  has  n't  got  a  light  in  his  comfortable  furnished  room  ! 
Shrewd  enough  to  know  that  our  family  interest  depends  on 
my  child's  marriage  with  him,  am  I  ?  He  mustn't  silly  fool 
me  much  more,  then  !" 

Indulging  in  reflections  of  this  nature,  Mrs.  Fenway  walked 
several  times  up  and  dowii,  and  would  have  continued  that  re- 
freshing exercise,  had  she  not  noticed  a  brisk  little  man  com- 
ing over  the  hill.  His  solid  boot-soles  made  a  heavy  thud  on 
the  road,  and,  as  he  trudged  along,  he  muttered  to  himself 
some  brief  but  cheery  remarks. 

"  It 's  old  Wetherspun,  true  as  I  'm  alive  1     He  's  been  to 


2IO  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

visit  his  daughter,  and  he  's  rehearsing  the  story  he  's  going  to 
tell  his  wife.  It  won't  do  for  me  to  be  seen  walking  up  the 
hill  at  this  time  of  night."  So  Mrs.  Fenway  turned  and  walked 
down. 

Nearer  and  nearer  tramped  the  cowhide   boots ;  and  more 
distinct  became  the  wearer's  soliloquy. 

"  As  nice  a  fatted  ca'f  as  ever  ye  see.  Do'  no' ;  porridge, 
I  guess  ;  fed  him  porridge  when  I  was  there.  Schoolmaster 
got  the  joke  on  to  Amos ;  told  him  if  he  sucked  his  thumb 
't  would  come  oi^  ;  knew  one  little  boy, — thumb  come  off ;  then 
sucked  t'other;  that  come  off,  too;  then  pitched  into  his 
lingers  ;  come  off,  one  arter  t'  other.  Hi  !  hi !  Schoolmaster 
great  on  a  joke  Amos  did  n't  suck  his  thumb  agin  all  that 
arternoon  ;  could  see  him,  on  the  sly,  lookin'  lo  see  if  there 
was  any  signs  of  its  crackin'.  Schoolmaster  an'  minister, 
an'  three  ladies.  Riz  biscuit,  dried  beef,  an'  grape  jelly. 
Fresh  meat  both  days  for  dinner  ;  take  of  a  butcher.  Put 
him  in  trustee  of  the  deestric'  school;  said  he  wouldn't — " 
Here  Mr.  Wetherspun  became  aware  of  a  female  figure  a 
few  yards  before  him  ;  and  began  to  hum  snatches  of  a  tune, 
to  turn  off  his  soliloquy.  Having  come  up  with  his  fair  neigh- 
bor, he  slackened  pace,  peered  under  her  bonnet,  and  said, 
"  Good  evenin',"  at  a  venture. 

"Good  evening,"  she  replied,  in  a  disguised  voice.  ("I 
hoped  to  goodness  he  would  n't  know  me  for  those  Wether- 
spuns  were  always  bound  to  get  in  the  way,  and  stick  by  when 
they  were  n't  wanted,"  was  her  comment  on  the  event  in  after 
years.) 

"  Mis'  Fenway,  ain't  it.^  Thought  I  could  n't  be  mistaken, 
for  you  're  about  the  shortest  and  chunkedest  woman  any- 
wheres about."  (If  Mrs.  Fenway  had  any  personal  peculiar- 
ities on  which  she  did  not  pride  herself,  they  were  those  which 
had  enabled  him  to  know  her  in  the  dark;  and  she  felt  com- 
plimented accordingly.)     "  Don't  ye  know  vieV' 


MKS.    lENWAV's    QUANDARY.  211 

"  Oh  !  Mr.  Wetherspun,  is  it  .?  " 

"Twas  ^vhen  I  left  hum,  and  I  guess  I  hain't  changed  my 
name  nor  my  natur'  in  two  days.  My  son-in-law,  he  brought 
me  as  fur  's  the  Corners.  Both  seem  to  be  goin'  the  same 
way,  — s'pose  ye  won't  object  to  my  comp'ny." 

"  I  don't  know  and  reason  why  I  should,""  snapped  Mrs. 
Fenway,  in  a  voice  which  might  have  betrayed  that  there  was 
a  very  particular  reason,  "  unless  you  want  to  walk  faster  than 
1  do."     And  she  fell  into  a  snail's  pace. 

"  I  ain't  in  no  gre't  of  a  hurr}',"  said  Mr.  Wetherspun 

"Your  wife  will  be  jealous,"  said  Mrs.  Fenway. 

"  Wull,  no,  I  guess  not,  though  she  "11  wonder  where  _)ou 'd 
ben,  alone,  this  time  o'  night,  and  she  "11  like  as  not  pester 
me  if  I  ain't  able  to  tell  her.  These  women  like  to  know 
everything,  ye  know." 

"  So  do  these  men,  sometimes  !  " 

"Wull,  I  do'  no'  but  you  're  about  right.  I  own  up  to  it,  I 
Titos  kinder  wonderin'  where  you  could  a  ben  goin",  an'  now 
footin'  on 't  hum  so  monstrous  slow.  I  'm  beat  if  I  can 
guess." 

"  It  ain't  much  of  a  riddle,  and  I  don't  mind  telling  you," 
said  Mrs.  Fenway.  "  I  've  been  to  call  on  Miss  Maybloom, 
and  pay  her  for  Marian's  last  quarter." 

Mr.  Wetherspun  was  surprised  that  he  had  not  thought  of 
that.     Then  he  laughed. 

"  I  s'pose  ye  'd  'a'  sent  her  another  quarter,  if  she  had  n't 
took  her  prize  a'ready." 

Mrs.  Fenway  asked  curtly,  "  What  prize  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  did  n't  mean  no  school  medal,  nor  nothin'  o'  that  sort , 
but  the  prize  young  ladies  are  perty  generally  aimin'  arter,  I 
believe.  I  know  our  gals  thought  on  't,  an'  so  did  their  mam- 
my. She  was  for  givin'  on  'em  a  little  more  of  the  ornamental 
branches  ;  but  I  said,  like  as  not  if  we  did,  and  got  'em  ed- 
ecated  up  to  the   highest  pitch,  till  they  'd  know  lots  'bout. 


212  FARNELL  S    FOLLV. 

books  and  dreffle  little  'bout  housekeepuv,  it  might  be  their 
luck  arter  all  to  marry  poor  men,  who  'd  a  sight  druther  they  'd 
know  how  to  make  good  bread  than  to  play  the  pyaner  ever 
so  sweet  and  perty.  There  's  Deacon  Tibbetts's  darter  ;  they 
laid  out  a  slue  of  money  on  her  edecation,  and  she  got  no- 
body but  a  forty  acre  farmer,  arter  all  the  expense.  But  you 
consider  it  paid  perty  well  in  Marian's  case,  don't  ye  ?  She 
got  suthin'  mere 'n  common  by  the  inv-estment,  that's  a  fact. 
I  'xpect  Daskill  's  rich,  and  a  perty  slick  sort  of  a  feller  in 
other  ways." 

Mrs.  Fenway  must  have  remembered  how  suddenly  Mari- 
an's French,  and  drawing,  and  even  music,  had  lost  their  im- 
portance in  her  eyes  as  soon  as  Mr.  Daskill's  bid  was  in. 
Yet  she  answered  Wetherspun  sharply,  — 

"  I  hope  other  people  educate  their  daughters  from  some 
other  motive  than  just  to  get  them  husbands,  if  you  did  n't. 
And  as  for  Mr.  Daskill,  he  's  a  gentleman,  and  he  ain't  a  slick 
feller,  and  I  '11  thank  you  to  bear  it  in  mind." 

She  hoped  with  this  retort  to  get  rid  of  him.  But  though 
he  had  thought  a  moment  before  that  he  really  must  be  mov- 
ing on  a  little  faster,  he  now  feared  he  had  offended  her,  and 
stayed  to  atone  for  the  fault.  The  more  he  strove  to  concili- 
ate her,  however,  the  more  impatient  and  irate  she  became, 
the  result  being  that  he  did  not  leave  her  until  she  had  reached 
her  own  gate. 

A  result  which  likewise  proved  exasperating  to  another 
amiable  female,  namely,  Wetherspun's  wife.  He  had  en- 
gaged to  be  home  at  eight  o'clock  ;  and  Mrs.  Wetherspun, 
after  anticipating  the  news  he  w^ould  bring,  with  all  the  eager- 
ness of  a  child  for  promised  gifts,  experienced  all  the  impa- 
tience of  a  child  when  the  clock  struck  and  he  did  not  come. 
She  waited  awhile  longer,  then  put  on  her  bonnet,  and  stepped 
out  to  the  gate  to  look  for  him.  Then  she  thought  she  would 
walk  a  little  way  up  the  street,  and  meet  him.     Then,  as  she 


MRS.  Fenway's  quandary.  213 

couldn't  bear  to  return  without  him,  after  going  so  far,  she 
went  on  farther  still,  certain  that  he  must  be  near,  and  never 
dreaming  of  the  possibility  of  missing  him;  for  how  could  she 
know  that  he  had  turned  up  Brook  Street,  to  beau  Mrs.  Fen- 
way home  ? 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Wetherspun  took  leave  of  his  fair  neighbor, 
and  hastening  to  his  own  door,  found  his  wife  absent  and  the 
house  deserted.  As  he  was  quite  as  eager  to  tell  his  news  as 
she  had  been  to  hear  it,  his  turn  had  now  come  to  wonder  and 
grow  impatient,  and  watch  and  hearken,  exclaiming  every 
minute,  "  What  can  have  become  of  that  everlastin'  gadder, 
this  time  0'  night  ?     It's  enough  to  vex  a  saint  !  " 

Mrs.  Fenway  stood  by  the  gate  where  he  had  left  her,  in  a 
terrible  quandar)'  as  to  what  she  should  do, —  whether  to  go 
in,  or  to  hasten  back,— when  somebody  came  running  to  her 
from  the  bridge. 

"Frank,  is  that  you?" 

"  Yes  'em ;  and  I  've  been  looking  for  you  ever)- where. 
Miss  Clewsey  wanted  the  braid  ;  and  Marian  could  n't  think 
what  had  become  of  you.     Where  in  Jericho  have  you  been  ? " 

"No  matter  !  "  said  Mrs.  Fenway  sharply  ;  but  she  quickly 
changed  her  tone.  "Frankie  dear,  I  want  you  to  do  some- 
thing, and  never  lisp  a  syllable  of  it  to  a  living  soul !  Will 
you  please  mother  once?" 

"Will  you  let  me  buy  Tom  Cragin's  dog-harness?"  said 
Frank,  ready  for  a  bargain.  "  It  just  fits  Franco,  and  I  've 
got  some  wheels  to  make  a  —  " 

"  Yes,  yes  !  Don't  speak  so  loud  !  "  And  Mrs.  Fenway,  on 
his  promise  of  secrecy,  gave  him  his  instructions. 

He  capered  gleefully  away ;  but  was  sorr)',  on  reflection, 
since  she  had  consented  so  readily  to  the  dog-harness,  that  he 
had  not  also  stipulated  for  a  wagon. 

She  entered  the  house,  determined  to  conceal  forever  the 
cause  of  her  trouble;    threw  off  her  things   and   sat  down; 


214  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

but  quickly  got  up  arjain,  and  went  from  room  to  room,  and 
up-stairs  and  down-stairs,  heaving  sudden  and  deep  sighs,  and 
taknig  violent  pinches  of  snuff,  answering  even  Marian's 
anxious  questions  fretfully  and  evasively,  all  the  while,  with 
secret,  consuming  fire  of  impatience,  awaiting  Frank's  return. 
At  last  his  feet  came  bounding  up  the  steps.  She  called  him 
immediately  into  her  room,  and  shut  the  door. 

"  I  've  earnt  the  dog-harness!  "  he  chuckled. 

"  'Sh  !  "  said  his  mother,  flushed  and  trembling.  "  Who  is 
she  ?     Anybody  I  know  ?  " 

"  Anybody  you  know  !  Well,  I  guess  !  "  Frank  rubbed  his 
hands  and  giggled.  "  Ye  see,  I  peeled  it  up  street  tight  as  I 
could  buckle  .  only  just  stopped  to  tell  Tom  1  'd  take  his  dog- 
harnc^s,  if  he  'd  put  on  a  new  crouper,  for  the  old  one  's  so 
short  it  makes  Franco  mad  as  sixty  when  you  go  to  —  " 

IMrs.  Fenway  gave  him  a  smart  shake  to  bring  him  back  to 
the  subject  of  inquiry. 

"  Never  mind  about  the  dog-harness.     Did  you  see  her  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  did  !  1  'm  telling  as  fast  as  I  can.  How 
could  I  find  out  who  she  was,  ii  I  did  n't  see  her?  " 

"Well,  well  !  go  on,  P'rankie  dear  !  " 

"Well,  well!  I  am  going  on,  ain't  I  .^  I  did  go  on — up 
High  Street;  and  I  wouldn't  let  Tom  go  with  me,  cither, 
though  he  offered  to  ;  for  I  told  him  't  was  a  secret.  I  had  n't 
gone  far  when  I  heard  somebody  talking,  and  saw  two  people, 
a  man  and  a  woman,  coming  along  down  towards  mc.  So  I 
just  pitched  my  cap  over  my  eyes  —  darned  if  I  was  afraid,  if 
'twas  dark!  —  and  put  on  a  thundering  big  swagger,  and 
walked  right  up  and  met  'em.  I  knew  Dolph  Daskill  by  his 
strut,  and  he  was  doing  about  all  the  talking, —  telling  how  he 
was  going  to  fix  up  the  house,  just  as  I  've  heard  him  twenty 
times  ;  for,  get  him  a-going  on  that,  don't  he  spread  ! '" 

"But  her!"  said  I\I:s.  Fenway,  smothering  with  her  own 
eagerness.     "  I  'm  dying  to  know  about  /lerf" 


MRS.    FENWAV  S    QUANDARY.  215 

"  Die  then  !  ain't  I  telling  ?  "  cried  Frank  irreverently.  "  I 
thought  I  knew  her  voice,  when  she  spoke  once  or  twice,  but 
was  n't  sure  ;  so  I  just  turned,  and  tagged  along  at  their  heels  ; 
followed  'em  all  the  way  down  High  Street,  and  then  along 
Main  Street,  till  they  came  to  Cross  Street,  and  turned  into 
that,  and  stopped  —  ye  can't  guess  where  !  At  old  Wether- 
spun's  gate  !  And  Wetherspun  came  out,  with  a  dripping  and 
flaring  candle,  and  —  " 

''  But  who  was  the  woman  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Wetherspun,  of  course,  large  as  life,  and  twice  as 
natural  !  Well,  what  ? "  said  Frank,  in  a  sudden  change  of 
key,  rubbing  one  cheek,  which  had  received  a  smart  slap, 
without  the  least  apparent  provocation. 

"  You're  lying  to  me  1"  said  Mrs.  Fenway.  "That  never 
was  Mrs.  Wetherspun  in  this  world  !  " 

"Then  I  hain't  got  any  eyes,  have  I  ?  Nor  ears  either.?" 
He  rubbed  one  of  them.  "  Did  n't  hear  her  and  the  old  man 
pitch  into  each  other  like  a  thousand  of  brick,  did  I  ?  He  had 
come  home,  and  hadn't  found  her,  and  that  made  him  cross; 
and  she  had  gone  to  meet  him,  and  missed  him,  and  that  made 
her  crosser ;  but  she  met  Daskill  instead,  and  walked  down 
with  him.  That  was  all  I  heard;  then  they  shut  the  door,  and 
I  put  for  home.  And  I  don't  see  what  I  've  done  to  be  slapped 
for,  neither  !     So,  there  !  " 

"  Well,  well  !     Go  to  bed  !     The  idea  !  " 

"  May  I  have  the  dog-harness  .''  " 

"  Yes,  yes  !     Absurd  ! " 

Thereupon  Frank  was  satisfied,  and  wondered  why  his 
mother  was  not  satisfied  too. 


2i6  farnell's  folly. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 


THE    MISSING    LATCH-KEY. 


Mr.  Adolphus  Daskill  made  his  appearance  at  the  house, 
the  next  morning,  in  such  excellent  spirits  that  Mrs.  Fenway 
was  half  inclined  to  believe  her  vision  of  him  the  evening  be- 
fore to  have  been  the  illusion  of  a  dream.  There  was  nothing 
of  the  mysterious,  dark  villain  about  him,  but  all  was  open  and 
cheerful  as  the  day.  She  could  not,  however,  meet  him  with- 
out visible  agitation. 

"  I  thought  you  had  gone  to  Buffalo ! "  she  said  very  shortly, 
remembering,  among  other  things,  that  she  was  a  silly  fool. 

"  I  was  detained  by  important  business.  I  don't  go  until 
to-morrow,"  he  answered,  with  charming  suavity. 

He  could  see  that  something  was  wrong  with  her,  and  made 
a  quick  guess  —  in  the  right  direction,  but  considerably  short 
of  the  mark — that  her  much-talked-of  visit  to  the  Folly  might 
be  the  cause.  He  did  not  care  to  risk  any  further  resent- 
ment on  her  part  just  then  ;  so  he  added,  in  his  blandest 
tones,  — 

"  My  horse  is  at  the  gate  ;  and  I  have  called  to  see  if  you 
and  Marian  will  afford  me  the  pleasure,  which  I  have  looked 
forward  to  so  long,  of  taking  you  up  to  the  new  house.  It 's  a 
delightful  morning." 

Mrs.  Fenway  was  prompted  to  answer  in  her  severest  man- 
ner, "  No,  sir,  thank  you  !  I  don't  care  to  go  !  —  Wind  me 
round  his  little  finger,  can  he  ?  We  '11  see  !  "  But  she  curbed 
her  unruly  member,  and  immediately  suffered  herself  to  be  so 
wound. 


THE    MISSING    LATCH-KKY.  21/ 

Her  anger,  though  quick  and  vehement,  was  short-lived,  as 
we  know,  and  Adolphus  was  the  most  persuasive  of  men.  At 
every  smile  and  pleasant  word  of  his,  her  suspicions  were  al- 
layed, her  resentment  cooled.  She  was,  at  all  events,  deter- 
mined not  to  break  with  him  until  she  knew  more.  The  in- 
vitation was  accordingly  accepted,  and  the  ladies  went  to  dress 
for  the  ride. 

"  Mother,"  said  Marian  anxiously,  "  I  wonder  what  has 
become  of  my  key !  It  was  in  my  porte-monnaie  yesterday, 
I  'm  sure.     My  key  to  the  new  house,  I  mean." 

Poor,  guilty,  scared  Mrs.  Fenway  did  n't  know  what  to 
answer.  It  was  probably  still  in  the  outer  keyhole  of  the 
door,  which  had  slammed,  and  shut  her  into  the  Folly.  What 
if  Bluebeard  should  find  it  there  ? 

"  Where  was  your  porte-monnaie  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  In  this  drawer,"  said  Marian.  "  I  don't  miss  any- 
thing else.  Do  you  suppose  Nance  could  have  taken  the 
key  ? " 

"  It  would  be  just  like  her.  That  girl  is  up  to  all  sorts  of 
mischief !  But  don't  say  anything  about  it  now.  And  I 
would  n't  mention  it  to  Mr.  Daskill.  He  will  think  you  've 
been  very  careless." 

"I  sha'n't  blame  him  if  he  does;  he  is  always  so  exact  in 
such  matters  himself,"  said  Marian. 

She  went  on  searching  and  wondering ;  and  her  mother, 
flurried  and  flushed,  ventured  feeble  conjectures,  —  inwardly 
burning  with  impatience,  meanwhile,  to  fiy  to  that  rear  door, 
and  secure  the  key  before,  by  any  chance,  it  could  be  dis- 
covered by  Marian  or  Mr.  Daskill. 

That  Adolphus  had  not  called  with  the  intention  of  taking 
out  both  ladies  appeared  from  the  fact  that  he  had  come  in 
his  one-seated  buggy.  But  the  vehicle,  which  could  by  no 
possibility  carry  three  when  he  wished  to  ride  with  the 
daughter   alone,    could   very   well    accommodate    another  — 


2i8  farnell's  folly. 

plump  as  we  know  that  other  to  have  been  — when  such  was 
his  pleasure. 

"  We  shall  crowd  you,  I  'm  afraid,"  said  Mrs.  Fenway,  as 
she  and  Marian  made  room  for  him  on  the  seat. 

"  So  much  the  better ;  we  can  never  be  too  near  our 
best  friends,"  said  the  gallant  gentleman,  settling  himself 
between   them. 

The  mouse-colored  horse  started  off  at  a  fleet  pace,  and 
the  wheels  hummed  merrily  along  the  pleasant  village  streets. 
They  were  soon  at  the  Folly,  where  Adolphus  anchored  his 
horse  by  the  weight,  and  then  assisted  the  ladies  to  alight. 
He  escorted  them  up  the  steps  between  the  couchant  lions, 
and  throwing  open  the  door,  said  smilingly, — 

"  Now,  dear  mother,  you  have  the  satisfaction  of  entering 
your  future  — home-in-law,  shall  I  call  it  ?  " 

Marian  laughed,  but  Mrs.  Fenway,  suffering  from  a  multi- 
tude of  emotions,  did  not  perceive  the  wit. 

"  I  believe,"  Adolphus  added,  "  you  have  never  been  in  the 
house  before  ? " 

"I  have  passed  it  many  times,"  Mrs.  Fenway  found  grace 
to  reply ;  "  but  I  can  hardly  say  I  have  ever  seen  the  inside 
of  it."  She  flattered  her  conscience  that  this  was  in  one 
sense  true,  and  devoutly  wished  just  then  that  it  were  true  in 
every  sense. 

How  beautiful  ever3^hing  was  that  morning !  The  slopes 
and  terraces  were  of  a  fresh,  delightful  green  ;  the  trees  and 
shrubs  were  in  foliage,  and  some  in  blossom ;  birds  were 
singing,  and  blue  heavens  and  sweet  air  were  over  all. 
Within,  such  cheer  and  splendor  met  her  eyes  that  she  could 
hardly  believe  that  this  was  her  gloomy  prison  of  the  night 
before.  Adolphus  threw  open  the  blinds  with  an  ease  that 
astonished  her,  and  showed  all  the  spacious  apartments,  even 
to  the  furnished  room  up-stairs,  where  he  opened  a  bottle  of 
champagne  in  honor  of  the  occasion. 


THE    MISSING    LATCH-KEY.  2I9 

Mrs.  Fenway  \vas  tempted  to  say,  "  Here  is  where  Mr. 
Daskill  entertains  his  lady  friends  "  ;  and  yielded  to  the  temp- 
tation. 

"  That 's  evident,"  said  he,  as  he  filled  the  glasses.  "  This 
is  the  first  happy  occasion ;  I  trust  it  will  not  be  the  last. 
Mrs.  Fenway,  I  propose  your  good  health  Not  a  dint  in 

his  polished  armor  to  show  that  her  stroke  had  told. 

She  had  tried  in  vain,  when  on  the  first  floor,  to  get  as  far 
as  the  rear  entry.  Adolphus,  who  in  the  most  flattening  way 
accompanied  her  everywhere  and  explained  everything,  had 
prevented  her,  saying,  "I  '11  take  you  out  that  way  presently; 
I  want  to  show  you  the  chambers  first."  The  missing  key, 
therefore,  remained  the  secret  cause  of  a  great  deal  of  anx- 
iety and  absent-mindedness  to  the  worthy  lady,  until,  the 
chambers  shown  and  the  champagne  tasted,  Adolphus  led 
them  once  more  to  the  lower  hall. 

"  You  have  n't  seen  the  conservatory,"  he  said,  and  passed 
in  through  the  back  parlor  with  Marian, 

Mrs.  Fenway  lingered  at  the  door  long  enough  to  see  his 
full  figure  defined  against  the  conservatory  glass,  and  to  be 
startlingly  reminded  of  her  vision  of  him  there  the  night 
before ;  then  made  a  dart  at  the  entry.  She  believed  she 
could  open  the  door  by  daylight ;  but  she  was  spared  the 
necessity.  It  was  already  open,  and  the  peaceful  sunshine 
lay  along  the  floor.  She  made  a  wild  and  rapid  search  for 
the  key.     It  was  gone. 

She  was  looking  for  it  on  the  threshold,  when  Adolphus 
came  to  find  her. 

"  We  are  waiting  for  you  in  the  conservatory,"  he  said, 
showing  her  the  way  back  with  the  greatest  politeness. 

While  he  was  asking  advice  of  the  ladies  with  regard  to 
some  plan,  a  whitewasher  from  the  cellar  came  and  handed 
him  a  key,  saying,  "  I  found  it  in  the  back  door  this  morning, 
when  I  came  in." 


220  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

"Why,  Marian,"  said  Adolphus,  "that  must  be  your  key! 
When  were  you  here  last  ?  " 

Marian,  as  she  took  it,  looked  at  her  mother,  and  saw  the 
guilt  in  her  flushed  and  frightened  face.  I  am  afraid  Adol- 
phus saw  it  too ;  for  he  gave  his  future  mother-in-law  a  pecul- 
iarly piercing  regard. 

"  It  must  be  mine,"  said  Marian,  after  some  hesitation. 
"  I  don't  know  when  I  could  have  left  it  here.  It  was 
extremely  careless  in  me  !  " 

In  a  quiet  but  imperative  tone  Adolphus  repeated,  — 

"  When  were  you  here  last  ?  " 

"Two  days  ago,  with  you,"  she  replied,  looking  him 
affrightedly  in  the  face. 

"  Who  else  could  have  come  here  with  your  key  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  of  anybody." 

"Are  you  sure  it  is  your  key?"  He  took  it  once  more 
and  examined  it.  She  was  n't  sure  —  poor  girl !  She  knew 
only  too  well  that  it  was,  and  that  it  had  been  stolen  and  left 
there  by  her  mother.  "  I  think  I  may  as  well  take  possession 
of  it,  till  you  ascertain  if  yours  is  missing,"  he  said,  and  put 
it  into  his  pocket. 

He  soon  drove  the  ladies  home,  and  left  them  at  the  door. 

"  O  Marian,"  Mrs.  Fenway  burst  forth,  as  soon  as  they 
were  alone  together,  "  I  'm  going  to  tell  you  about  that  key. 
I  took  it  last  night,  and  opened  that  door  with  it,  on  my  way 
home  from  Miss  Maybloom's." 

"  Why  did  n't  you  tell  him  so  ?  "  said  Marian  reproachfully. 
"  It  would  have  saved  me  so  much  !  " 

"  It  was  impossible  ! "  said  Mrs.  Fenway,  excitedly  but 
firmly.  "  There  's  a  particular  reason  why  I  don't  want  him 
to  know  that  I  was  in  the  house ;  and  you  must  never  tell  him. 
And  you  must  never  ask  me  the  reason.  I  may  tell  you 
some  time,  not  now." 

"  Then  why  have  you  told  me  anything  ?  "  cried  Marian, 


THE   MISSING   LATCH-KEY.  221 

"  It  would  have  been  better  for  me  to  know  nothing  about  the 
key,  for  he  will  be  sure  to  bring  the  question  up  again,  and 
now  I  shall  have  to  tell  him  a  falsehood,  to  shield  you." 

"It  is  to  shield  you,  my  child!"  said  Mrs.  Fenway  im- 
petuously, and  went  off  into  violent  sighs  of  despondency  and 
remorse. 

Then  she  resolutely  closed  her  lips  ;  and  Marian  implored 
in  vain  to  know  the  source  of  those  mysterious  emotions. 


222  FARNELL  S   FOLLY. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 


THE    WEDDING. 


Mrs.  Fenway's  feelings  regarding  INIr.  Daskill  and  her 
daughter's  future  remained  extremely  variable.  It  seemed  to 
her  sometimes  as  if  she  must  tell  Marian  everything,  and 
unite  with  her  in  calling  him  to  an  account ;  then  she  said  to 
herself  (generally  after  a  pleasant  interview  with  Adolphus), 
"  Of  course,  he  's  a  man  I  Whatever  the  trouble  was,  it 's  all 
over;  and  the  less  we  know  about  it,  the  better," 

Mean\\hile  she  did  not  neglect,  by  various  indirect  methods, 
to  inquire  out  what  new-comers  had  been  lately  at  the  ho- 
tel, or  seminary,  or  anywhere  else  in  town ;  and  she  bribed 
Frank  to  keep  an  occasional  watch  over  Mr.  Daskill's  move- 
ments. But  no  clew  could  she  gain  to  the  mystery  of  the  un- 
known woman.  And  now,  as  the  wedding  day  approached, 
other  cares  crowded  upon  her. 

"  It 's  not  every  bride,"  she  said,  "  whose  personal  appear- 
ance will  bear  a  brilliant  wedding  ;  but  Marian's  will,  and  she 
shall  have  it."  The  dresses,  the  getting  of  the  house  in  order, 
the  entertainment,  the  etiquette  of  the  occasion,  who  should 
be  invited,  and  who  not, —  these  portentous  trifles  cost  her 
many  a  feverish  day  and  sleepless  night,  and  black  Nance 
many  a  box  on  the  ear. 

At  last  the  billets  took  flight,  dovelike,  types  of  innocence 
and  joy, —  the  loving  cards  tied  delicately  together,  in  token  of 
the  hearts  already  joined,  or  at  least  of  the  hands  soon  to  be. 
How  sweetly  suggestive  are  those  little  missives,  married  by 
the  daintiest  of  silken  knots  1     What  visions  they  bring  of  a 


THE    WEDDING.  22$ 

more  sacred  tie,  of  united,  spotless  lives  !  O  garlanded  arch 
of  wedlock,  beneath  which  noble  manhood  and  pure  woman- 
hood meet !  O  roseate  mists  of  the  future  !  O  love  and 
trust,  mutual  confidence,  mutual  comfort,  mutual  help !  O 
passions,  ruddy  as  the  dawn,  to  be  chastely  cherished,  making 
the  glory  and  sweetness  of  life  !  O  beautiful  parentage,  divin- 
est  tie  of  the  divine  garden  of  delight  !  angels  of  patience, 
peace,  and  duty  !  —  what  is  there  of  holiest  and  best  that  is 
not  symbolized  by  those  small  white  perfumed  wings? 

The  carrier  billets  took  flight,  some  speeding  far  away,  and 
others  settling  down  in  favored  homes  of  quiet  Waybrook  vil- 
lage. Dear  me  !  and  must  the  prosaic  fact  be  told,  that  they 
brought  anything  but  simple  joy,  as  well  where  they  alighted 
as  where  they  did  not  alight  Heart-burnings  here  ,  sordid 
cares  and  preparations  there. 

At  last  dawned  the  great  day  which  was  the  innocent  cause 
of  so  much  preparation  and  vexation.  No  lovelier  June  morn- 
ing ever  breathed  the  subtle  essence  of  beauty  and  sweetness 
into  the  souls  of  men.  But  what  a  day  it  was  to  the  Fenway 
household  !  Worn  out  and  worried  to  death  by  previous  labors 
and  perplexities,  Mrs.  Fenway  hardly  knew  (as  she  long  after 
confessed  to  the  writer  of  this  chronicle)  whether  she  stood 
on  her  head  or  her  heels. 

"There  was  everything  to  be  seen  to  ;  and  I  was  in  a  terri- 
ble fidget,  fearing  something  would  go  wrong.  Of  course  it 
would  n't  do  to  put  any  cares  on  poor,  dear  Marian ;  she  had 
all  she  could  bear  up  under,  as  it  was.  A  hundred  times  I 
could  n't  help  remembering  what  a  quiet  little  wedding  we 
made  for  Lottie,  and  wondering  whether  it  really  paid  to 
wear  out  souls  and  bodies,  making  such  a  to-do.  I  was  pro- 
voked at  my  husband  for  taking  things  so  easy.  He  laughed 
at  me  because  I  acted  as  if  my  life  depended  on  tying  a  rib- 
bon or  getting  a  window  cleaned,  while  he  didn't  seem  to 
care  whether  he  had  even  a  pair  of  gloves  to  wear. 


224  FARNELLS    FOLLY. 

"  '  Think  of  my  big  hands  in  white  kids  ! '  says  he.  *  Why, 
I  shall  be  ashamed  of  myself ! ' 

"  But  we  all  attacked  him,  and  when  he  really  saw  that  he 
was  going  to  spoil  the  whole  thing  by  refusing,  he  concluded, 
as  he  said,  to  do  the  silliest  thing  he  ever  did  in  his  life,  and 
consented"  to  the  gloves,  to  keep  peace  in  the  family. 

"I  had  spoken  to  Mrs,  Chilgrove,  because  I  knew  she 
would  be  such  a  help.  Marian  had  made  her  a  present  of  a 
new  dress,  which  she  might  have  got  ready  to  wear ;  but  she 
was  either  too  proud,  or  something ,  she  came  to  help  us  get 
ready,  but  would  n't  stop  to  see  the  wedding. 

"  Thoudi  we  had  done  so  little  for  Lottie  at  the  time  she 
was  married,  she  took  right  hold,  and  did  everything  she 
could  for  me  and  Marian.  I  did  n't  appreciate  it  at  the  time, 
but  I  've  learnt  to  since,"  added  Mrs.  Fenway,  resorting  to  a 
pinch  of  snuff,  which  might  have  been  the  cause  of  her  start- 
ing tears.  "  She  did  all  anybody  could  ask  of  her,  —  except 
one  thing.  We  wanted  her  to  have  a  green  silk  for  the  wed- 
ding, it  would  have  been  so  becoming  to  her  complexion,  — 
she  had  such  a  fine  color  in  those  days.  But  no,  she 
insisted  on  wearing  just  a  plain  white  muslin  fastened  with  a 
white  ribbon  it  was  her  own  choice,  and  I  must  say  she 
looked  about  as  neat  and  pretty  as  anybody  there,  after 
all. 

"  Mr.  Daskill's  friends  were  coming,  a  good  many  of  them ; 
but  there  was  only  one  I  felt  much  afraid  of,  and  that  was  his 
aunt.  I  had  got  the  impression,  from  what  he  had  said  of  her, 
that  she  was  one  of  the  most  stylish  ladies  in  the  world  ;  and 
I  believe  I  scarcely  decided  any  matter  of  taste  or  etiquette 
without  questioning  in  my  own  mind,  What  would  Mrs. 
Downey  think  of  it?  She  came  to  town  in  the  afternoon 
with  some  of  his  friends,  and  went  straight  up  to  the  new 
house,  which  had  been  got  ready  for  them  ;  and  I  never  saw 
her  till  she  appeared  in  the  evening. 


THE    WEDDING.  22  5 

"  She  was  a  tall,  spare  woman,  straight  as  a  cob,  as  Geordie 
said,  —  and  a  little  more  so,  for  I  do  believe  she  mclined 
backwards  a  little.  She  had  the  primmest  mouth,  which 
always  seemed  to  be  saying,  '  I  am  Mr.  Daskill's  aunt ;  I  am 
the  Mrs.  Downey  you  have  heard  him  mention  ' ;  and  her 
whole  air,  as  she  looked  at  me, — or  rather  over  roe,  for  she 
could  scarcely  bend  enough  to  look  down  at  me,  —  conveyed 
the  idea  that  she  considered  it  extremely  genteel  to  be  tall 
and  slender,  and  very  vulgar  indeed  to  be  short  and  stout. 
But  that  was  mostly  my  imagination ;  for  you  know  how  apt  we 
are  to  fancy  terrible  things  in  a  person  we  've  been  led  to 
stand  in  awe  of.  There  was  not  much  to  her,  but  her  atti- 
tude, and  her  relation  to  Mr.  Daskill.  She  would  stand  or 
sit,  with  her  hands  folded,  and  her  mouth  prim,  and  really 
flatter  herself  that  she  was  performing  a  most  important  part 
in  society,  though  she  never  uttered  a  word.  One  of  those 
persons  who  imagine  that  all  that's  expected  of  them  is 
countenance  and  deportment,  and  that  when  they  "ve  earned 
these  serenely  into  society  and  serenely  out  again,  they 
have  done  a  highly  proper  thing.     That  was  Mrs.  Downey. 

"  I  can't  help  laughing  now,  to  think  how  anxious  I  had 
been  to  see  her,  on  one  account  particularly,  —  to  know  what 
the  latest  style  of  head-dress  was  for  ladies  of  our  time  of 
life.  I  was  all  dressed  when  she  came ;  I  had  on  a  black 
mor}'-antique,  with  a  long,  flowing  skirt,  pointed  corsage, 
front  and  back ;  flowing  sleeves,  and  point  applikay  under- 
sleeves,  with  collar  to  match,  and  a  set  of  Etruscan  gold 
Mr.  Daskill  had  given  me ;  hair  plain,  —  but  I  wore  a  neat 
tuU  cappee,  with  flowers,  satin  ribbons,  and  long,  flowing 
strings  down  the  back. 

"  Mrs.  Downey  wore  a  pale  shade  of  lavender  silk,  high  in 
the  neck,  w^ith  plain  corsage,  long  sleeves,  and  an  abundance 
of  lace  trimming,  small  point-lace  collar  fastened  with  a  small 
diamond  pin,  and  her  hair  puffed  and  frizzed. 

IS 


226  farnell's  folly. 

"  Of  course  I  was  made  to  realize  at  once  that  pale  lavender 
was  just  the  thing  for  ladies  of  our  age,  and  that  black  mory- 
antique  wasn't  the  thing  at  all.  But  what  astounded  me 
most  was  her  puffs  and  frizzes.  We  had  had  a  good  deal  of 
discussion  in  the  house  beforehand,  as  to  whether  cappees 
were  in  the  best  taste.  I  had  firmly  believed  that  Mrs. 
Downey  would  wear  one ,  in  fact,  the  image  that  always 
presented  itself  to  my  mind,  when  Adolphus  spoke  of  her, 
was  a  pale  genteel  lady  in  a  cappee.  So  the  cappee  was  my 
choice,  though  my  confidence  in  it  had  been  shaken  by  Miss 
Clewsey  and  Mrs.  Chilgrove,  who  assured  me  that  cappees 
were  out  of  style.  My  mind  was  in  such  a  trembling,  anxious 
state  on  that  subject  that  you  might  almost  have  knocked  me 
down  with  a  feather ;  and  that  will  account  for  the  over- 
whelming effect  on  my  nerves  of  Mrs.  Downey's  puffs  and 
frizzes.  I  was  altogether  bewildered ;  and  I  began  to  think 
my  nice  tull  cappee  the  most  outlandish  thing  in  creation.  I 
tell  you  frankly  how  foolish  I  was  ;  for  things  have  happened 
that  have  made  me,  I  hope,  a  little  wiser  since  "  ;  and  the  lady 
wiped  her  eyes. 

**  I  was  in  perfect  despair  for  a  little  while,  regretting  that 
I  hadn't  taken  Mrs.  Chilgrove's  advice,  and  accepted  her 
offer  to  puff  and  frizz  my  hair  herself  ;  for  she  said  she  could 
do  it  as  well  as  any  barber.  I  had  told  her  at  last,  rather 
sharply,  that  I  would  n't  be  puffed,  nor  frizzed  either,  not  if 
the  President  of  the  United  States  was  to  offer  to  do  it ,  and 
that  had  ended  the  matter.  And  now  the  consequence  was, 
that  after  making  such  a  hurrah-boys  over  the  fashionable 
wedding  I  was  giving  my  daughter,  I  was  going  to  make  my 
appearance  at  it  in  such  an  antiquated  thing  as  a  cappee. 

'  But  suddenly  it  occurred  to  me  that  perhaps  it  was  n't  too 
late  yet  to  make  the  change.  It  was  seven  o'clock,  or  a  little 
past,  and  the  ceremony  was  to  take  place  at  eight.  I  ran  and 
put  the  irons  into  the  fire  the  first  thing.     Then  I  ran  to  Mrs. 


THE    WEDDING,  22/ 

Chilgrove,  who  was  helping  Marian  get  ready,  and  told  her  I 
had  concluded  to  take  her  advice.  I  felt  that  it  was  eating 
humble  pie,  after  what  I  had  said  before ;  but  I  did  n't  mind. 
I  begged  and  entreated  her  to  puff  and  frizz  me  as  soon  as 
possible.  She  took  the  request  mighty  coolly,  and  never 
hurried  herself  in  the  least  but  finally,  just  as  I  was  getting 
out  of  all  manner  of  patience,  she  took  hold  of  me.  I  was 
fretful,  I  knov/ ;  one  would  naturally  be  a  little  so,  under  the 
circumstances.  But  she  had  always  appeared  so  meek  and 
composed,  I  thought  she  would  bear  almost  anything.  My 
husband  had  judged  her  differently  from  any  of  us.  Marian 
almost  thought  her  a  saint;  and  Geordie  and  Lottie  wouldn't 
hear  a  syllable  breathed  against  her :  they  had  fairly  quar- 
relled with  the  Wintergreen  girls  on  her  account.  But  my 
husband  had  a  way,  when  he  saw  us  over-and-above  enthusi- 
astic about  anybody  or  anything,  of  just  tucking  in  a  word 
edgeways,  to  ridicule  us  ;  and  he  'd  more  than  once  given  us 
to  understand  that  he  thought  there  was  something  very  dif- 
ferent in  that  woman  from  what  we  supposed. 

"  She  had  got  at  my  hair,  and  had  already  put  up  with  a 
good  deal  from  me,  —  for  I  was  on  nettles,  and  I  should  have 
thought  the  swiftest  hand  in  the  world  too  slow, — when  I 
said  something,  in  my  sharp  way,  that  showed  me  just  how 
meek  and  saintly  she  was.  Laws  !  down  went  the  iron  on  the 
floor  with  a  clang;  and  off  steps  my  lady,  drawing  herself  up 
to  her  full  height,  and  sweeping  to  the  door  like  a  play-actress, 
with  such  a  look  as  I  never  saw  on  a  woman's  face  before  or 
since.  It  fairly  chilled  my  blood,  heated  as  I  naturally  was 
from  fret  and  excitement. 

"  'I  came  here  to  do  you  a  service,'  says  she,  '  and  not  to 
be  insulted.  I  'd  have  you  remember  that  I  am  a  lady,  Mrs. 
Fenway,  \i  jou  are  not ! '     There  was  tameness  for  you  ! 

"  Somehow  I  did  n't  fire  up,  as  it  would  have  been  just  like 
me  to  do,  —  perhaps  because  she  took  me  so  aback  with  her 


228  farnell's  folly. 

tragedy  airs ;  perhaps  because  I  was  only  puffed  and  frizzed 
on  one  side,  and  there  was  nobody  to  puff  and  frizz  t'  other 
side. 

"  '  You  ain't  going  to  leave  me  so  ? '  I  called  out,  half  frantic 
at  the  idea. 

"  •  I  am  going  to  leave  you  just  so,'  says  she,  perfectly  calm 
again,  but  resolute  as  steeL 

''  I  entreated  her.  I  looked  at  myself  in  the  glass.  I  was 
an  object !  one  half  my  head  in  magnificent  puffs  and  frizzes, 
and  't  other  side  plain.  I  looked  like  the  halves  of  two 
women  clapped  together  by  mistake.  So  I  humbled  myself 
again.  I  don't  know  that  I  actually  got  on  my  knees  to  her, 
for  I  had  on  my  mory-antique  but  I  might  as  well.  I  apol- 
ogized in  the  most  abject  way,  and  implored  her  to  puff  and 
frizz  the  other  half  of  me,  promising  all  sorts  of  favors  if  she 
would. 

"  *  Think  of  all  the  trials  I  have  had  to  undergo,'  says  I,  *  to 
make  me  fretful  ! ' 

"  '  And  do  you  think  /  have  had  no  trials  ? '  says  she, 
'You  don't  know  what  trials  are.'  But  at  last  she  relented  ; 
and  I  was  puffed  and  frizzed  to  my  heart's  content." 

Now  it  so  happened  that  Mrs.  Downey  had  also  been  unde- 
cided as  to  the  style  of  head-dress  she  should  adopt  for  the 
occasion.  Her  own  taste  was  an  extremely  neat  tulle  cappee, 
set  off  with  satin  ribbons,  and  long  flowing  strings  down  the 
back  ;  and  she  had  brought  such  an  article  of  head-gear  to 
the  Folly  that  afternoon,  intending  to  wear  it.  But  then  the 
barber  came  ;  and  her  friends  persuaded  her  to  have  her  hair 
puffed  and  frizzled.  She  felt  afterwards  that  she  had  com- 
promised the  dignity  of  her  position  as  Mr.  Daskill's  aunt  in 
allowing  herself  to  be  thus  influenced  against  her  judgment, 
and  was  quite  melancholy  on  the  subject  when  she  reached 
the  bride's  home  and  beheld  Mrs.  Fenway. 

Now  Mr.  Daskill,  who  delighted  in  a  large  style  of  talk,  and 


THE    WEDDING.  229 

especially  in  magnifying  the  merits  of  everybody  and  every- 
thing connected  in  any  way  with  himself  (even  his  dog  and 
his  horse  were  the  most  extraordinary  dog  and  horse  ;  and  if 
he  had  occasion  to  mention  his  boots,  they  were  the  finest 
boots  this  side  of  Paris), — Mr.  Daskill,  I  say,  having  inti- 
mated to  Mrs.  Fenway  that  his  aunt  was  a  model  of  elegance, 
had  strictly  balanced  the  account  by  representing  to  Mrs. 
Downey  that  his  future  mother-m-law  was  a  pattern  of  per- 
fection. And  the  truth  is  that  Mrs.  Fenway  did  look  surpris- 
ingly neat  and  handsome  in  her  black  moire-antique  and  tulle 
cappee,  when  the  two  ladies  met  for  a  moment  on  the  evening 
of  the  wedding.  Immediately,  beneath  its  calm  exterior, 
tumultuous  emotions  agitated  the  Downey  breast ;  and  puffs 
and  frizzles  became  perfectly  preposterous  (so  she  declared) 
for  a  widow  lady  of  fifty. 

"  Don't  I  look  like  a  top-knot  chicken.?  "  she  said  solemnly 
to  a  friend  who  accompanied  her,  stretching  up  her  long  neck 
befiore  the  dressing-room  mirror. 

"I  think  myself  the  cappee  was  more  becoming  to  you," 
replied  the  lady,  —  one  of  those  charming  friends  who  know 
how  to  give  counsel  with  perfect  safety  to  their  own  reputa- 
tion for  astuteness  who  withhold  their  judgment  on  any 
point  about  which  you  need  sincere  and  sound  advice,  until 
after  you  have  decided  what  course  to  take,  and  are  sorry 
for  it,  then  shake  the  head,  look  sadly  wise,  and  say  oracu- 
larly, "  I  was  sure  the  other  way  was  better ! "  making  you 
feel  as  comfortable  in  your  mind  as  possible. 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  so  before  it  was  too  late  ?  "  says 
the  model  of  elegance,  —  hardly  a  model  of  patience,  —  as 
she  turns  and  tips  her  toi>knot  in  the  glass. 

But  was  it  too  late  ?  Carriages  would  be  coming  and  going 
between  Mrs.  Fenway's  house  and  the  Folly  until  eight 
o'clock.  Mrs.  Downey  formed  a  sudden  resolution.  Remark- 
ing that  she  had  forgotten  something,  she  went  out,  stepped 


230  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

into  the  first  returning  vehicle,  rode  to  the  Folly,  put  on  her 
cappee  over  her  puffs  and  frizzles,  and  rode  back,  triumphant 
in  her  turn. 

''  We  had  it  all  arranged  beforehand  "  (Mrs.  Fenway  con- 
tinued her  narrative)  "  that  the  minister  who  was  to  perform 
the  ceremony  (none  of  our  common  clergymen  would  do,  but 
Mr.  Daskill  had  brought  a  distinguished  divine  from  Buffalo) 
was  to  stand  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room,  and  I  and  my 
husband  were  to  come  in,  and  take  our  places  at  his  right 
and  left  hand,  to  give  away  the  bride.  I  was  n't  ready 
till  the  last  minute,  and  I  was  dreadfully  flustered  when  I 
found  they  were  all  waiting  for  me.  I  was  flushed  from  my 
puffing  and  frizzing ;  and  to  reduce  my  high  color  to  a  more 
genteel  tone,  I  had  used  powder,  in  too  much  of  a  hurry,  it 
seems,  for  my  husband  said  I  looked  ring-streaked  and 
speckled,  like  Jacob's  cattle.  But  he  told  me  not  to  mind, 
he  was  worse  off ;  and  he  showed  me  one  of  his  gloves, 
which  had  burst  open  like  so  much  white  paper.  It  was  too 
late  to  think  of  another  pair,  for  he  said  he  had  been  an  hour 
getting  those  on,  and  'twas  the  hardest  hour's  work  he  had 
done  for  a  fortnight.  I  was  horrified;  but  he  said,  never 
mind,  he  would  keep  that  hand  in  his  pocket,  or  behmd  him, 
under  his  coat-tails  ;  but  that  was  one  of  his  jokes. 

"  At  last  we  started.  I  suppose  my  nervousness  had  given 
him  the  idea  that  we  must  rush  to  our  places  with  all  our 
might,  for  away  he  strode !  It  was  always  the  hardest  thing 
in  the  v/orld  for  me  to  keep  step  with  him  we  look  more  like 
a  duck  and  a  sandhill  crane  walking  together  than  anything 
else  under  the  canopy  of  heaven.  And  now  he  stalked  in, 
taking  enormous  strides  (you  know  what  his  legs  are  !)  and 
dragging  me  after  him,  tripping  over  my  skirts,  —  when  I 
was  n"t  on  "em  he  was,  —  so  that  I  came  within  one  of  pitch- 
ing headforemost  at  the  minister.  My  husband  made  all 
sorts  of  fun  of  himself,  when  I  scolded  him  afterwards     he 


THE    WEDDING.  2$  I 

said  he  could  feel  his  hair  and  his  coat-tails  streaming  behind 
him  in  the  wind ;  but  that,  of  course,  was  only  his  odd  way  of 
setting  out  a  thing.  The  room  was  jDacked  full  of  jDCople, 
with  only  just  a  lane  left  open  from  the  door;  but  'twas  still 
as  death ;  you  could  have  heard  a  pin  drop.  The  bride  and 
bridegroom  followed  slowly  enough  to  make  up  for  our 
stampede,  and  I  had  time  to  recover  myself,  and  raise  my 
eyes  a  little. 

"Then,  what  do  you  think  I  saw,  —  like  a  clump  of  elder- 
berry blossoms  on  a  tall,  thin  bush  beside  the  lane  ?  A  tull 
cappee  !  And  who  do  you  suppose  the  bush  was,  —  after  all 
my  worry  and  fret  to  get  myself  puffed  and  frizzed  like  her  ? 
Mr.  Daskill's  aunt,  for  all  the  world  !  I  felt  as  if  I  should 
sink  into  the  floor ;  for  of  course  she  carried  it  with  such  an 
air  you  'd  have  sworn  cappees  over  puffs  and  frizzes  were  all 
the  style  for  ladies  of  our  time  of  life  ;  and  it  was  n't  till 
afterwards  that  I  found  out  the  best  part  of  the  joke,  —  that 
as  I  had  complimented  her  by  going  into  puffs  and  frizzes, 
she  had  put  on  her  cappee  to  pattern  after  the  fashionable 
and  distinguished  bride's  mother.  My  first  impulse  was 
to  run  back  and  slip  on  my  cappee  again,  but  that  would 
have  been  too  absurd !  The  bride  and  bridegroom  were 
coming  m,  and  glad  enough  I  was,  for  they  took  all  eyes, 
of  course. 

"And  now  I  had  something  else  to  think  of  besides  my 
own  foolishness  and  vanity.  Mr.  Daskill  was  looking  younger 
and  better  than  I  ever  saw  him  before,  and  Marian"  —  the 
tears  rushed  into  Mrs.  Fenway's  eyes  as  she  went  on  —  "  O 
sir,  she  was  the  loveliest  picture  !  She  appeared  in  a  cloud  of 
white  lace,  with  an  illusion  veil  reaching  to  the  floor.  Her 
low  neck  and  short  sleeves  showed  to  perfection  her  delicate 
color,  —  it  was  just  as  fresh  and  rosy  as  an  infant's.  I  soon 
forgot  my  own  mortification  in  my  pride  in  her  ;  and  well 
might  Mr.  Daskill  —  " 


232  farnell's  folly. 

Bui  here  ihe  tears  got  into  tlie  mother's  voice  also,  and  she 
paused,  overcome  by  her  recollections  of  those  days. 

"  Yet  it  seemed  there  was  to  be  no  end  to  the  awkward 
events  of  that  night,"  she  resumed  with  a  smile,  wiping  her 
moist  eyes.     "  At  the  most  solemn  moment,  just  as  the  cler- 
g)TOan  was  asking  Adolphus   if   he   took    Marian  to    be    his 
wedded  wife,  promising  to   love,  honor,    and   cherish  her    (a 
very  touching  and  solemn  question,  sir,  don't  you  think  it  is  ? 
and  how  many  that  marry  hear  it  with  their  ears,  and  answer 
it  with  their  lips,  and  make  the  vow  which  should  be  the  holi- 
est and  deepest  word  they  ever  uttered  in  their  lives,  without 
once  feeling  what  it  really  means  !)  —  just  at  that  moment,  I 
say,  when  we  were  all  attention,  our  dog  Franco  came  into  the 
room,  wagging  his  tail,  and  peering  about  him  from  under  his 
great  shaggy  ears  and  eyebrows,  and  stopped  right  behmd  the 
bridegroom.     All  the  young  folks  began  to  giggle  ;  then,  just 
as  Mr.  Daskill  opened  his  lips  to  say,  '  I  do,'  the   dog,  aston- 
ished, I  suppose,  at    the   crowd    and    the    hush,    opened    his 
mouth,  and  gave  such  a  bark   as  put   everybody  out  of  coun- 
tenance, and  even  the  minister  had  to  stop   and   cough,  and 
have   recourse    to    his    handkerchief.      Only  poor    Marian  — 
she  looked  terribly  distressed  ;  and  Mr.  Daskill  —  I  knew  by 
the  expression  of  his   face  that   Franco  would  have  died    a 
sudden  and  cruel  death,  if  if  had  n't  been  for  the  restraining 
circumstances   of  the   occasion.      As   it  was,  Walter  dragged 
the  brute  out  by  the  collar,  amidst  a  general  rustle  and  move- 
ment, such  as  you  've  remarked  when  a  large  assembly  laughs 
inside,  and  you  can  almost  hear  a  multitude  of  faces  twisting, 
and  puckering,  and  tr)-ing  not  to  smile. 

"Well,  order  was  restored,  and  the  ceremony  was  con- 
cluded. Marian  was  married  !  "  (Mrs.  Fenway  sighed,  took 
a  pinch  of  snuff,  and  proceeded.)  "She  I  had  toiled  for, 
and  hoped  for,  and  schemed  for,  not  always  wisely,  I  am 
aware  now,  but  according  to  the  best  cf  my  judgment  then ; 


THE    WEDDING.  233 

mothers  are  so  blinded  by  their  afifections,  or  their  pride,  you 
know,  sir.  The  great  step  was  taken :  our  child  was  no  lon- 
ger our  child  ;  she  belonged  to  another ;  we  had  committed 
her  destiny  into  his  hands,  for  good  or  ill.  For  once  all  my 
petty  cares,  and  vanities,  and  chagrins  were  forgotten  iu  the 
great  and  solemn  thought  of  what  marriage  was,  and  what 
life  was,  and  what  must  follow,  sooner  or  later,  whether  we 
marry  rich  or  marry  poor.  ]\[y  husband  kissed  the  bride,  and 
then  held  both  her  hands,  and  looked  at  her,  while  the  tears 
ran  down  his  cheeks,  which  I  had  scarce  ever  seen  wet 
before ;  and  then  said  to  Mr.  Daskill,  '  Be  good  to  her ;  she 
is  our  darling  child  ! '  while  he  —  " 

After  a  brief  interruption,  the  good  woman  found  voice  to 
close  her  narrative  •  — 

"  Just  as  the  company  was  breaking  up  it  began  to  rain, 
and  a  good  many  nice  clothes  got  wet.  The  carriages  kept 
going  and  coming,  and  at  last  Mr.  Daskill  and  Marian  went 
too  ,  for  he  had  taken  it  into  his  head  that  they  would  pass 
the  night  with  his  friends  at  the  Folly.  Strange,  was  n't  it, 
that  our  darling  girl  should  finally  leave  our  house  in  a  raging 
thunder-storm  ?  They  got  into  the  carriage  at  the  door, 
and  drove  off  into  the  darkness ;  when  suddenly  the  sky 
seemed  to  open,  and  the  last  I  saw  of  them  was  by  a  blaze  of 
lightning  going  up  the  road,  —  the  carriage,  the  horses,  the 
trees,  everj'thing,  standing  out  for  an  instant  in  a  glare 
brighter  than  noonday;  then  the  sky  shut  again,  and  the 
thunder  bellowed,  and  tumbled,  and  crashed  overhead,  and 
the  rain  poured  ;  and  we  went  back  into  the  house,  feeling  so 
lonely,  so  lonely,  now  that  all  was  over." 


234  farnell's  folly. 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 


^r  A  k  I  A  N    S    NEW    HOME. 


We  have  all  noticed  and  admired,  no  doubt,  the  skilful  man- 
ner in  which  the  artist  of  the  modern  stage  contrives  to  bring 
his  fairy  spectacle  to  a  surprising  (if  not  very  lifelike)  con- 
clusion. Possibly,  in  the  final  tableau,  the  heroine  sails 
miraculously  aloft  in  an  illummated  shell ;  or  she  strikes  a 
pleasing  attitude  at  the  apex  of  a  pyramid  of  ineffably  lovely 
creatures  in  gauzy  frills,  while  from  the  magnificent  array  of 
turbans  and  trousers  and  scimitars  in  the  background  bursts  a 
soul-thrilling  chorus ;  and  from  the  flashing  colored  lights, 
burned  in  the  wings  regardless  of  expense,  a  wondrous  pyro- 
technic glory  pours  over  all.  The  troop  remains  after  the  first 
descent  of  the  curtain  for  an  encore,  which  is  sure  to  be  called 
for  ;  once  more  the  orchestra  peals  forth  its  brazen  thunder, 
up  go  the  glorified  girls  on  one  leg  again,  or  the  enchanted 
shell  ascends  with  its  bewitching  freight  towards  invisible  pul- 
leys in  the  roof.  Then,  when  all  is  over,  and  the  curtain  is 
down  for  good,  away  scamper  the  thinly  clad  nymphs,  shiver- 
ing in  the  windy  coulisses,  to  their  dressing-rooms,  where  they 
cast  off  their  tawdry  apparel  (you  would  be  astonished  to  see 
how  very  tawdry  it  really  is,  and  what  scrawny  necks  and  arms 
often  emerge  from  the  paint  and  tinsel),  and  put  on  their 
common,  sometimes  their  very  common,  street  dresses,  in 
haste  to  get  home  to  their  attics.  Old  heads  in  town  under- 
stand this  sort  of  thing ;  but  }  ou,  gentle  youth  from  the  rural 
districts,  are  hardly  prepared  t©  believe  that  the  kind  and 
attentive  (though  by  no   means  ravishingly  beautiful)  young 


MARIAN  S    NEW    HOME.  27,$ 

woman  who  will  wait  upon  you  at  dinner  to-morrow,  in  the 
crowded  and  steaming  third-class  restaurant,  is  one  of  the  bliss- 
ful beings  you  admired  in  the  play.  Question  her,  however, 
and  she  will  probably  inform  you  (for  she  is  a  frank,  good 
creature,  with  no  romantic  nonsense  about  her)  that  she  is  a 
table-girl  here  by  day  (at  a  salary  of  three  dollars  a  week  and 
her  board),  and  also  a  supernumerary  of  the  theatre  (pay 
twenty-five  cents  a  night,  when  her  services  are  required),  — 
now  serving  meats  and  puddings  to  gross  mortals,  and  now 
appearing  as  a  fair}'  with  golden  wings.  The  moral  of  which 
thing  is  not  to  be  dwelt  upon  ;  for  has  it  not  often  enough  been 
made  tiresome  by  dull  pedants  ?  "  All  the  world  's  a  stage," 
and  so  forth, — from  Shakspeare  down. 

Yet  there  are  certain  phases  of  life  which,  more  than  others, 
remind  us  of  these  strange  contrasts  betwixt  being  and  seem- 
ing ;  and  foremost  among  them  is  the  ceremonious  and  showy 
v.cdding.  See  the  ladies  in  their  superb  costumes !  the  gentle- 
men in  voluminous  shirt-fronts  and  swallow-tail  coats  !  How 
brilliant,  how  enviable,  their  existence  seems  !  this  glittering, 
smiling  surface  hides  so  much.  Then,  as  centre-piece  to  the 
fine  tableau,  behold  the  bridegroom  and  bride,  —  he  so  fortu- 
nate, so  noble,  she  so  beautiful  and  pure ;  and  both  so  far  re- 
moved from  the  petty  faults  and  vulgar  cares  of  this  work-day 
world.  Music  and  perfume,  and  eternal  youth  and  flowers, 
encompass  and  enchant  them.  Lift  the  bridal  veil,  and  you 
look  upon  a  lovley  face  :  but  lift  the  veil  of  seeming,  and  what 
do  you  behold .-'  The  curtain  falls,  too,  on  this  pleasing  tab- 
leau ;  and  straightway,  at  every  turn,  the  stark  realities  of  life 
beset  the  actors.  The  bridal  raiment  is  laid  aside,  and  v.ith  it, 
too  often,  the  white  vesture  of  youthful  purity  and  aspiration, 
giving  place  to  the  coarse  garment  of  sordid  thoughts  and  low 
desires ;  and  she  who  appeared  last  night  as  a  fairy,  is  to-day  a 
servant  of  the  flesh-pots,  ministering  to  the  gross  necessities  of 
man.     Too  often  only  that ;  but  not  always,  thank  your  chaste 


236  farnell's  folly. 

stars,  sweet  maiden,  happy  wife  !  Love  keeps  his  perfume  in 
the  hearts  of  some,  undestroyed  by  baser  fires ;  sweetening 
thereby  toil,  and  poverty,  and  sorrows  of  the  spirit  and  the 
flesh,  and  making  the  future,  if  different,  yet  better  and  more 
blessed  than  was  dreamed.  Ah,  madam  !  did  not  you  and  I 
know  well  enough  what  each  was  thinking,  when  we  exchanged 
glances  at  the  great  wedding  in  the  church  the  other  day  ?  and 
when  3'our  eyes  grew  misty,  and  your  lips  moved  dumbly,  did  I 
not  rightly  divine  that  your  great,  warm  heart  was  pleading  with 
our  fair  sister  at  the  altar .-'  "  O  dear,  dear  child  !  "  (you  were 
saying)  "you  come  to  this  shrine,  like  the  rest  of  us,  in  an 
illusion  veil ;  and  when  that  is  put  aside,  you  are  to  find  life 
so  changed  from  what  it  seems  now!  —  for  that  is  inevitable. 
But  oh,  do  not,  do  not  forget  your  early  dreams  !  if  he  is  gross 
and  worldly,  do  not  sink  to  his  level,  but  lift  him  up  to  yours ; 
learn  patience,  long-suffering,  and  kindness ;  and  cherish  for 
yourself  and  for  him  a  chastening,  holy  faith  in  the  ever- 
present  spirit,  comfort  and  guide  of  every  true  and  contrite 
soul ! " 

If  ever  there  was  a  bride  one  would  have  seemed  justified 
in  pronouncing  exempt  from  the  coarse  contrasts  which  so 
often  succeed  the  gay  wedding,  that  bride  was  Marian,  Fresh 
and  blooming  from  a  brief  but  delightful  bridal  tour,  she  re- 
turned to  pleasant  Waybrook  village  and  her  elegant  new 
home.  If  one  could  not  be  happy  surrounded  by  those  lovely 
slopes  and  lawns,  those  tender  young  groves  and  bright  foun- 
tains, then  where  under  the  dome  of  heaven  could  one  be  hap- 
py ?  Verdure  and  blossoms,  and  flash  of  waters,  and  melody 
of  birds  without ;  pictures  in  gorgeous  frames,  statue  and 
statuette,  and  bust  on  pedestal,  on  bracket,  and  in  niche, 
portfolios  and  bric-a-brac,  withm ;  loveliness  and  luxury 
everywhere.  Into  what  a  little  Eden  the  place  had,  in  a  few 
short  weeks,  been  transformed !  And  the  author  of  this 
change,  —  the   noble   Adolphus,  —  was  he    not   the    devoted 


MARIAN  S    NEW    HOME,  23/ 

lover  still  proud  of  his  beautiful  young  bride,  and  lavishly  gen- 
erous in  adorning  her  person  and  gratifying  her  tastes  ? 

Tall  and  prim  Mrs.  Downey,  who  had  kept  the  house  in 
their  absence,  welcomed  them  to  it  in  her  stateliest  man- 
ner on  their  return.  Marian  kissed  her  impulsively,  and 
said,  "  O  Mrs.  Downey,  you  don't  know  what  a  relief,  what  a 
happiness  it  is  to  me  to  feel  that  you  are  going  to  be  with  us ; 
for  I  have  learned  from  him  what  a  dear,  good,  sensible  aunt 
you  are.  I  shall  be  so  glad  of  your  company  always  ;  and 
your  counsel  will  be  so  necessary  and  useful  to  poor  little  in- 
experienced me  ! " 

"Thank  you,  my  dear  !  "  said  Mrs.  Downey,  after  the  first 
surprise  of  the  bride's  embrace ;  and  folded  her  prim  hands 
upon  her  belt  again. 

"  She  is  a  model  housekeeper,  as  you  see,"  observed 
Adolphus. 

"  Oh,  I  see,  and  I  admire  ! "  And  Marian  glanced  from  room 
to  room  with  increasing  delight. 

She  chatted,  she  wandered  about,  she  unpacked  some  trink- 
ets, and  at  last,  left  alone,  sealed  herself  by  a  window  of  her 
room,  which  overlooked  all  Waybrook,  her  early  haunts,  and 
the  humble  homes  she  knew.  There  were  the  mill-pond  and 
the  winding  stream,  and  the  noisy  fork  factory,  whose  rapid 
trip-hammers  could  be  heard  thus  far  away,  now  faint,  now 
loud,  as  the  wind  blew.  There  was  her  father's  quaint,  old- 
fashioned  roof,  —  dear  old  roof  still !  —  and  Lottie's  home  by 
the  mill-dam,  just  visible  behind  trees.  And  there  were  two 
roofs  on  Mill  Street,  the  sight  of  which  filled  her  soul  with 
sweet  and  bitter  memories. 

"  To  think  that  Julia  should  be  living  there,  after  all,  and  I 
here  in  the  house  her  father  built  for  her  !  Oh,  what  a  change, 
in  so  few  months,  for  both  of  us  !  I  think  she  does  n't  love 
me  any  more.  Can  she  be  —  No,  Julia  Farnell  could  never 
be  envious  of  any  one  !  But  I  wish  it  was  n't  just  as  it  is ; 
something  is  not  right." 


238  farnell's  folly. 

At  last  her  fancy,  long  restrained  from  a  sense  of  wifely 
duty,  flew  on  to  that  other  house,  which  she  had  walked  past  in 
such  a  frenzy  of  doubt  and  despair,  the  night  before  Will 
started  on  his  journey.  She  wondered  now  at  the  violence  of 
her  emotions  then  ;  and  trembled  to  think  what  might  have 
happened  had  she  entered,  or  met  Will  in  that  rash  ride  to 
the  railroad  station  the  next  morning.  Would  she  be  Mr. 
Daskill's  wife  now,  and  mistress  of  this  beautiful  home  ? 
Probably  not.  Did  she  regret  her  marriage  ?  How  could  she } 
And  yet  — 

Her  eyes  were  filled  with  tears,  when,  hearing  a  movement, 
she  looked  round,  and  saw  Adolphus  standing  in  the  half-open 
door.  His  countenance  was  gloomy  and  disturbed,  and  he 
was  turning  to  go  away,  when,  swiftly  drying  her  tears,  she 
ran  up  to  him,  and  hung  upon  his  shoulder,  and  with  a  sweet, 
fond  smile,  asked  him  to  come  in. 

"  I  seem  to  have  come  at  the  wrong  time,"  he  said,  regard- 
ing her  searchingly. 

"  Oh,  no  !  jou  can  never  come  at  the  wrong  time  !  "  Marian 
replied,  drawing  him  into  the  room. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  see  Aim  /  "  he  asked,  with  grave  concern. 

Now,  he  who  was  in  her  mind  a  minute  before  had  already 
been  alluded  to  by  Adolphus  in  ways  Avhich  convinced  her 
that  he  knew  more  of  her  heart's  secrets  than  she  would  ever 
have  dared  to  confess.  It  seemed  to  her  now  that  he  read 
her  very  thoughts ;  and,  thrown  into  confusion  by  his  ques- 
tion, and  his  ver}'  singular  look,  she  answered  unguardedly, — 

"  No,  I  do  not  think  it  best ;  I  have  no  wish  to  see  him." 

"  Whom  do  you  think  I  mean  ? "  said  Adolphus. 

"  I  suppose  —  the  one  you  have  spoken  of  before,"  faltered 
the  poor  girl  guiltily. 

"  Then  /le  is  the  cause  of  these  tears  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

Marian  saw  her  mistake  and  tried  to  recover  herself. 

"  Oh,  no  !  I  was  sitting  by  the  window,  —  and  do  you  won- 


MARIAN  S    NEW    HOME.  239 

der  that  I  thought  of  many  things  in  my  Ufe  ?  A  thought  of 
him  did  cross  my  mind  with  the  rest,  —  but  not  a  regret,  not 
a  wish  ever  to  see  him  again,  believe  me." 

Adolphus  walked  away  impatiently,  and  with  lowering 
brows ;  but  presently  returned,  and  said  in  a  softened  tone, 
"  I  was  not  speaking  of  him  at  all.  I  meant  my  son.  I  told 
you  he  would  be  here,  and  you  have  not  yet  asked  to  see 
him." 

Marian  was  dismayed  to  find  how  her  own  guilty  conscience 
had  betrayed  her.  She  knew,  too,  how  painfully  sensitive  he 
was  on  the  subject  which  had  been  in  his  mind,  and  hastened 
to  say,  "  I  do  wish  to  see  him  !  But  I  supposed,  when  it  was 
best  that  I  should,  you  would  tell  me." 

"  He  is  not  so  well  as  I  hoped  to  find  him.  But  I  want  you 
to  see  each  other."  Mr.  Daskill  rang,  and  sent  a  message  to 
Mrs.  Downey.  "  Sit  down,"  he  said  to  Marian,  while  he  him- 
self paced  the  room  uneasily.  "  We  must  be  careful  not  to 
excite  him." 

She  had  never  seen  him  so  pale.  If  there  was  a  being  in 
the  world  for  whom  Adolphus  cherished  a  pure,  unselfish 
regard,  it  was  this  unfortunate  youth,  whose  infirmity  was  a 
constantly  deepening  wound  both  to  his  affections  and  his 
pride.  He  was,  she  perceived,  extremely  solicitous  that  her 
first  impressions  of  the  boy  should  be  favorable  ;  and  she 
firmly  resolved  to  please  him. 

Soon  footsteps  were  heard;  at  which  Adolphus,  standing 
by  Marian's  chair,  laid  his  hand  on  her  shoulder,  and  said, 
"  Be  ver}''  quiet  now,  and  feel  kindly  towards  him  for  my 
sake."  Then,  leaning  in  a  careless  attitude  he  proceeded  to 
talk  on  some  indifferent  subject,  while  Mrs.  Downey  ushered 
in  his  son. 

"Ah,  Clarence  !"  he  said,  with  feigned  surprise.  "Come 
in  !  Here  is  your  new  mother.  This  is  my  son,  Clarence, 
my  dear.' 


240  FARNEL.L  S    FOLLY, 

Marian  reached  out  her  hand  with  her  most  -winning  smile. 

A  pale,  serious,  well-dressed,  and  decorous  boy  of  sixteen 
advanced  to  meet  her.  There  was  nothing  strange  or  repul- 
sive in  his  appearance,  except,  perhaps,  a  certain  sallowness 
and  flabbiness  of  face,  and  a  listless  expression  of  the  eyes, 
which  were  prone  to  become  vacant  and  wandering  the  mo- 
ment his  attention  ceased  to  be  fixed. 

"  I  am  very  happy  to  know  you,  Clarence,'"  she  said,  a  new 
and  strange  feeling,  an  almost  motherly  tenderness,  gushing 
up  in  her  heart  at  sight  of  him. 

He  regarded  her  with  childlike  simplicity  and  admiration, 
and  replied,  "  You  look  so  good  !  I  am  glad  you  have  mar- 
ried my  papa." 

"  Are  you  ?  Thank  you,  dear  Clarence.  I  see  you  and  I 
are  going  to  be  the  best  of  friends,"  she  answered  pleasantly. 

The  father  was  evidently  relieved  to  see  the  long-expected 
—  v.'e  might  almost  say  the  long-dreaded  —  interview  passing 
off  so  well.  Eut  suddenly  the  boy's  thoughts  seemed  to 
forsake  him  in  the  midst  of  something  he  was  saying  •  he 
paused,  with  a  meaningless  smile,  and  his  e3'es  began  to  wan- 
der. Adolphus,  who  had  been  carefully  watching  him,  made 
a  sign  to  Mrs.  Downey. 

"Come,  Clarence,"  she  said,  "I  have  something  to  show 
yon  up-stairs  "  ;  and  was  taking  him  away,  sending  him  out 
before  her,  and  bowing  statelily  to  cover  his  retreat,  when  a 
sudden  fall  resounded  through  the  apartments,  sharp  and  loud, 
as  if  some  inanimate  thing  had  been  hurled  to  the  floor. 

With  a  cry  of  anguish,  Mr.  Daskill  darted  forward  ;  and 
Marian,  following,  saw  him  snatch  up  in  his  arms  the  insensi- 
ble form  of  his  son.  She  flew  to  his  assistance,  but  he 
motioned  her  back,  unwilling  that  she  should  be  horrified  by 
the  spectacle  of  the  child  he  loved,  wrenched  and  convulsed 
by  the  demon  of  epilepsy. 


A    VISIT    FROM    THE    OLD    FOLKS.  24I 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

A    VISIT    FROM    THE    OLD    FOLKS. 

Wedding  calls  at  the  Folly  now  became  the  sensation  in 
Waybrook,  and  old  and  new  friends  of  the  bride,  appearing  in 
their  good  clothes  and  their  best  behavior,  saw  the  splendid 
residence,  the  polished  proprietor,  and  the  charming  young 
mistress,  —  all  that  lovely,  glittering  surface  of  things,  —  and 
were  filled  with  boundless  admiration  and  envy. 

It  was  not  long  before  Miles  Fenway  and  his  wife,  and 
Geordie  and  Lottie  rode  up  the  hill  one  evening,  behind 
Geordie's  prancing  span,  and  made  Marian  a  visit.  Ah,  how 
delighted  the  poor  child  was  to  see  them  !  She  had  been 
home  but  once  since  her  return;  and  her  heart,  full  of  new 
experiences,  yearned  towards  her  mother  and  sister.  She  had 
a  thousand  things  to  tell  them. 

"  It  is  so  hard  for  me  to  keep  away  from  you,"  she  said,  em- 
bracing them  again  and  again,  as  she  carried  them  off  to  the 
privacy  of  her  room.  "  Adolphus  laughs  at  me  for  feeling  as 
I  do,  and  I'm  afraid  he  will  think  I  am  homesick,  —  which  I 
am  not,  of  course." 

"Of  course  not!  how  absurd!"  said  Mrs.  Fenway,  who, 
much  as  she  had  been  preyed  upon  by  secret  misgivings,  now 
dismissed  them,  and  turned  her  eyes  exultingly  upon  her 
daughter's  glory. 

Meanwhile,  Adolphus  showed  Miles  and  Geordie  about  llie 
premises,  by  the  light  of  a  golden  sunset. 

"  Hanged  if  ye  hain't  got  a  jimmy  sort  of  a  box  here,  Mr. 
Daskill,  anyhow  !"  said  Geordie.  "  I  like  a  nice  place  ;  don't 
16 


242  FARNELLS    FOLLY. 

you?"  turning  to  Mr.  Fenway,  who  was  coming  behind  him 
through  the  shrubbery. 

His  tall,  spare  figure  pensively  bent,  Miles  mused,  and 
answered,  "  It  is  ver}''  pleasant,  very  pleasant  indeed." 

"I  expect  to  build  in  a  year  or  two,"  said  Geordie  ;  "and 
I  'd  put  up  jest  as  nice  a  house  as  this,  if  't  was  n't  for  one  or 
two  things.  First,  it  ain't  convenient,  as  the  elephant  said 
when  he  was  invited  to  climb  a  tree.  Second,  I  'm  afraid  I 
should  n't  fit  into  it  exactly,  after  I  'd  got  it.  I  've  sense 
enough  to  know  that  I  'm  a  plain  sort  of  a  chap,  and  I  should 
never  feel  at  home  in  any  but  a  plain  sort  of  house  ;  what 's 
more,  I  should  never  look  at  home.  If  there  's  anything  ridic- 
ulous, it's  common  folks  in  clothes  or  houses  too  fine  for  'em." 

*'  Cheap   pictures  in  costly  frames,"  suggested  Adolphus. 

"Exactly.  But  let  me  say,  Mr.  Daskill,  that  you  and 
Marian  seem  to  fit  this  frame  to  perfection." 

"Well,  —  thank  you,  that's  a  compliment,"  said  Adolphus, 
well  pleased  with  Geordie's  sincere  praise. 

"  Yes,"  said  Miles,  still  musing,  "I  enjoy  a  fine  place  ;  and 
I  don't  know  but  I  like  it  just  as  well  with  another  man  the 
owner.  The  comfortable  old  nest  for  me  !  It 's  lucky  for  us, 
Geordie,  that  we  are  contented  with  the  necessaries  of  life,  for 
it  is  n't  probable  we  shall  ever  have  the  luxuries." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Adolphus,  as  they  joined 
the  ladies  in  the  parlor.  "  I  've  learned  a  good  deal  more 
about  the, matter  I  proposed  to  you,  since  I  've  been  away. 
Did  Marian  tell  you  .''  I  left  her  at  my  uncle's,  and  went  over 
with  him  to  visit  the  property.  It  is  certainly  the  finest  chance 
for  a  fortune  I  ever  saw.  But,  excuse  me  !  I  must  n't  talk 
business  in  the  presence  of  the  ladies." 

"  Yes,  you  may,"  said  Mrs.  Fenway.  "  I  want  you  to  talk 
that  business  to  my  husband,  and  talk  it  into  him,  if  you  can." 

"  That  won't  be  so  easy,"  said  Miles.  "  I  believe  in  a  man's 
attending  to  his  own  legitimate  business;  and  mine  is  making 
forks,  not  speculating." 


A    VISIT   FROM    THE    OLD    FOLKS.  243 

"  You  are  very  rude,  it  seems  to  me,"  said  Mrs.  Fenway  in 
a  low  tone.  "Don't  you  see  ?  You  imply  that  Mr.  Daskill  is 
not  attending  to  his  own  business." 

"  Not  at  all,"  Miles  answered  aloud,  "  It  may  be  his  busi- 
ness to  start  new  enterprises.  I  've  started  one,  and  with  hard 
fighting  I  have  carried  it  through  with  some  little  success.  I  'm 
not  ready  to  take  hold  of  another." 

"  You  need  n't  give  any  time  at  all  to  it,"  said  Adolphus. 
"  You  can  make  a  fortune  with  your  hands  in  your  pock- 
ets." 

"  I  rather  think  I  should  have  to  take  out  a  hand  from  time 
to  time  with  a  little  money  in  it." 

"  A  small  outlay  at  the  beginning  is  all  that  will  be  required. 
We  have  a  bond  of  the  property,  which  doesn't  expire  till 
the  tenth  of  August.  By  paying  twelve  thousand  dollars  we 
secure  it,  and  have  a  year  to  pay  the  remamder.  It  is  situ- 
ated in  the  most  productive  region :  and  it  would  have  been 
snatched  up  long  ago,  if  others  had  known  as  much  about  it 
as  we  do." 

"  Do  listen  to  him,  Mr.  Fenway !  You  don't  know  what  a 
chance  you  may  be  throwing  away,"  Mrs.  Fenway  entreated. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  Geordie.     "  He  ? " 

"Yes,  Mr.  Lorkins,  —  oil.  And  a  chance  for  you  if  you 
like." 

"  No,  I  thank  you.  I  've  been  to  the  diggings,  and  learned 
a  thing  or  two.  One  man  strikes,  and  makes  a  fortune  ;  an- 
other buries  a  fortune,  and  never  sees  ile." 

"  Well,  Geordie,  you  've  said  it ! "  exclaimed  ]\Irs.  Fenway 
pettishly.  "  As  if  you  knew  more  about  it  than  Mr.  Daskill 
does !     The  idea  !  " 

"There's  a  good  deal  in  what  he  says,"  Adolphus  frankly 
admitted.  "  I  should  be  as  unwilling  as  anybody  to  take 
hold  of  an  ordinary  oil  speculation.  But  here  we  've  a  sure 
thing.     I  know  about  it." 


244  FARXELL  S    FOLLY. 

"  When  you  sink  a  well  and  see  the  ile  flow,  then  you  may 
say  you  know ;  but  not  much  before,"  laughed  Geordie. 

"  I  've  discovered  oil  on  the  banks  of  a  stream  that  runs 
through  the  property, — though  that's  a  secret,  mind,"  said 
Adolphus  confidentially. 

"  I  wouldn't  take  even  that  for  a  sure  sign,"  replied  Geordie. 
"Oh,  don't  I  know  how  things  are  managed  down  there? 
Travelling  through  the  country,  you  stop  at  a  farm-house  to 
get  a  drink,  'You're  welcome  to  that,'  says  the  honest  old 
farmer,  'but  't  ain't  very  good  water.'  'What's  the  matter 
with  't  ? '  says  you.  '  Times,'  says  he,  '  when  the  springs  get 
low,  there  's  more  or  less  ile  in  't ;  it 's  been  perty  bad  for  a 
week  now,'  says  he  ;  and  lets  down  the  bucket.  Sure  enough, 
there  's  a  little  ily  scum  on  the  water  when  it  comes  up.  '  Why 
don't  you  bore  here  ? '  says  you.  '  Hain't  got  the  needful,' 
says  he,  '  Will  ye  sell  ? '  says  you.  '  Oh  no  !  don't  want  to 
sell  my  farm  ! '  says  he  ;  'my  old  woman  never 'd  consent  to 
that.  It 's  just  as  good  a  farm  as  we  want,'  says  he,  '  only  if 
't  wa'n't  for  the  pesky  ile.'  Meanwhile  you  draw,  and  draw 
again,  and  ile  keeps  coming  up  in  the  bucket,  and  your  inter- 
est in  the  well  keeps  coming  up,  —  it 's  the  sweetest  water 
ever  you  tasted  ;  so,  before  you  've  done  with  it,  he  concludes 
he  will  sell,  and  his  old  woman  does  give  her  consent,  and 
you  've  paid  the  biggest  price  for  a  drink  ever  you  paid  in 
your  life.  Honest  old  farmer  lets  the  knife  into  you  clean  up 
to  the  handle.  You  buy  him  out,  and  go  to  boring ;  but  you 
never  can  get  ile  out  of  that  or  any  other  well  on  the  place, 
without  you  put  ile  into  it  first,  as  he  did." 

Mrs.  Fenway  fidgeted,  and  frowned,  and  took  snuff,  while 
Geordie  was  talking ;  and  now  turned  to  Adolphus. 

"  Old  birds  are  not  to  be  caught  with  chaff.  We  mean 
business,"  he  said  sententiously,  with  the  imposing  air  of 
cool  superiority  he  had ;  while  Mrs.  Fenway  gave  Geordie 
a   look   which    signified    plainly,    "  There  !    don't    talk    any 


A    VISIT    FROM    THE    OLD    FOLKS.  245 

more    nonsense   to    him !      What    do    you  know   about  such 
thhigs  ?  '• 

Long-limbed  IMr.  Fenway  lounged  rather  awkwardly  on 
the  elegant  sofa,  while  Adolphus  proceeded  to  unfold  his 
plans. 

"  There  are  a  hundred  and  forty  acres  of  land,  which  we 
purchase  for  sixty  thousand  dollars.  We  make  our  first  pay- 
ment of  twelve  thousand  dollars  —  four  thousand  apiece,  if 
there  are  three  of  us  —  on  the  tenth  of  August ;  and  that  is 
the  only  payment  we  shall  be  called  upon  to  make  out  of  our 
own  pockets." 

"  How  so  ?  "  Mr.  Fenway  inquired. 

"  We  divide  the  property  into  three  blocks,  as  we  say  ;  I 
own  one,  my  uncle  one,  and  you  one.  These  we  subdivide 
into  shares,  and  put  them  into  a  company,  say  twelve  or  fif- 
teen hundred  shares,  par  value,  one  hundred  dollars  a  share. 
We  can  let  our  friends  in  at  the  bottom,  if  we  like  ;  and  we 
can  sell  to  first  purchasers  as  low  as  we  please,  till  we  get  the 
thing  started.  In  two  or  three  months  oil  will  be  developed, 
—  a  forest  of  derricks  will  go  up  all  over  our  hundred  and 
forty  acres,  —  and  our  shares,  instead  of  being  worth  a  hun- 
dred dollars,  will  bring  five,  ten,  twenty  times  that.  Long 
before  our  second  payment  comes  due,  we  shall  have  sold 
enough  to  pay  for  the  entire  property.  Then  see  what  a 
splendid  thing  we  have  ! "  And  for  the  next  ten  minutes  Mr. 
Daskill  glittered  all  over  with  dazzling  figures. 

Mrs.  Fenway  understood  very  little  of  the  scheme,  but  saw 
with  rapture  the  promised  golden  result. 

"Now  I  hope  you  are  convinced,  Mr.  Fenway!"  she 
exclaimed. 

"  It  is  all  very  fine,  very  fine,"  said  Miles.  "  But  I  've 
neither  the  fancy  nor  the  money  for  a  speculation.  Go  to 
Ward  Farnell  and  old  Carolus :  Farnell  has  the  fancy, — 
he  is  revelling  in  grand  schemes  since  his  failure,  —  and  Car- 
olus has  the  money." 


246  farnell's  folly, 

"  There  are  plenty  of  men  with  both,  who  would  jump  at 
the  chance  to  go  in  with  us,"  replied  Adolphus.  "That  isn't 
Avhat  I  want,  —  I  want  you  to  make  a  good  thing.  If  you 
decline,  my  uncle  and  I  propose  to  swing  the  thing  our- 
selves." 

"  He  won't  decline,"  said  Mrs.  Fenway.  "  Mr.  Carolus 
will  lend  him  the  money.  You  know,  Mr.  Fenway,  what  he 
said  to  you  the  other  day." 

Miles  laughed.  "  I  met  the  rickety  old  gentleman  on  the 
street,  —  a  fine  summer  morning,  though  rather  cool,  —  and 
he  was  muffled  to  the  ears,  foi  he  can't  bear  a  breath  of  the 
north  wind,  even  in  July;  he  was  clattering  along  the  sidewalk 
in  his  old  cloak,  with  his  big  stick,  nodding,  and  muttering  to 
himself,  and  looking  more  like  a  half-civilized,  ancient,  shaved 
baboon  than  anything  quite  human.  He  stopped  short  when 
he  saw  me,  ran  his  eye  up  my  timber,  as  of  old,  till  he  got  to 
the  masthead,  then  began  to  strike  the  ground  with  his  stick, 
and  chatter.  '  'T  was  a  mistake,  a  mistake,  Miles  Fenway  !  * 
says  he,  alluding,  as  he  often  does,  to  the  time  when  he  refused 
to  lend  me  money.  '  I  did  n't  know  ye  then.  The  wisest  are 
sometimes  deceived.  But  I  've  watched  ye,  I  've  v/atched  ye. 
I  've  seen  ye  coming  up,  coming  up,  till  now  you  've  got  to 
be  —  '  '  Six  feet  three  and  a  fraction,' said  I."  And  Miles 
added,  "I  am  always  made  to  realize  that  that  is  coming  up 
considerably,  when  I  stand  and  talk  down  to  that  little  old 
cloak-full  of  shaking  anatomy  on  three  sticks. 

"  '  Hark  ye,  Miles  Fenway,  I  'm  always  ready  to  correct  an 
error;  and  that  was  an  error.  If  you  want  a  thousand  — 
two,  three,  four  thousand  —  any  time,  say  the  word.  I  know 
ye  now,  I  know  ye  now  ! '  and  he  smacked  and  stabbed  the 
sidewalk,  and  went  on  clattering." 

"  Now,  Mr.  Daskill,"  said  Mrs.  Fenway,  when  the  company 
had  done  laughing  at  her  husband's  mimicry  of  the  old  miser, 
"  I  '11  leave  it  to  you  if  that  don't  look  like  the  hand  of  Prov- 
idence in  this  very  thing  !  " 


A    VISIT    FROM    THE    OLD    FOLKS.  24/ 

"  He  knew  very  well  I  did  n't  want  the  money,"  said  Miles. 
"  '  To  him  that  hath  shall  be  given,'  seems  to  be  the  rule  in 
worldly  as  well  as  in  spiritual  things.  If  I  should  go  to  him 
when  I  was  actually  in  need,  you  'd  see  the  old  stick  come 
down  at  my  toes,  to  a  different  tune.  '  Not  a  cent,  not  a  cent, 
Miles  Fenway  !  You  've  come  to  the  wrong  man,  sir,  the 
wrong  man  ! '  " 

"  But  you  're  not  in  need,  and  he  knows  it.  Now,  I  hope 
you  will  listen  to  my  advice  in  this  thing.  Don't  you  thmk, 
]\Ir.  Daskill,  wives  are  often  capable  of  giving  their  husbands 
good  advice  even  in  matters  of  business  ?  " 

Adolphus  was  decidedly  of  that  opinion. 

"  Women  are  certainly  better  judges  of  character  than  men 
are,"  he  said,  with  a  happy  consciousness  that  Mrs.  Fenway's 
impressions  of  him  had  always  been  more  favorable  than  her 
husband's. 

"  I  should  hardly  say  better  j'ut/ges,"  Miles  replied.  "  They 
have  generally  finer  perceptions ;  but  fine  perceptions  don't 
always  lead  to  correct  conclusions.  My  wife  will  sometimes 
read  a  person  quick  as  lightning ;  yet  she  's  a  good  deal  more 
apt  to  be  deceived  in  people  than  I  am,  simply  because  she 
allows  herself  to  be  imposed  upon  by  appearances,  and  lets 
her  prejudices  run  away  with  her  judgment." 

"  Mr.  Fenway  ! "'  said  Mrs.  Fenway,  with  an  arrogant  toss 
of  her  chin,  "  I  wish  you  'd  name  one  instance  !  " 

"  I  think  I  might  name  several.  There  was  that  Canadian 
I  hired  one  year,  you  remember.  I  had  n't  the  least  confi- 
dence in  him.  But  he  was  astonishingly  polite,  and  he  told  a 
heart-breaking  story  about  losing  his  wife,  and  being  left  with 
six  young  children,  and  how  he  was  persecuted  by  all  his  rela- 
tions (always  a  bad  sign) ;  and  that  so  wrought  upon  your 
feelings  that  you  were  for  taking  him  into  the  family  at  once. 
The  result  of  which  was,  Mr.  Daskill,  — yes,  I  will  tell  it  now 
I  've  begun,  though  my  wife  is  trying  to  stop  me,  —  we  got  up 


248  farnell's  folly. 

one  fine  morning,  and  found  our  polite  Frenchman  missing, 
with  my  watch,  my  wife's  silver  thimble  and  spoons,  twenty-five 
dollars  in  cash  out  of  my  pocket,  and  a  horse  out  of  the  barn. 
I  got  the  horse  again  ;  but  watch,  spoons,  thimble,  money,  and 
Monsieur  Parley-voo,  we  never  saw  anything  more  of  them." 

"Well,  that  was  once.  I  acknowledge  I  was  deceived,  as  I 
think  almost  any  woman  would  have  been,  hearing  his  doleful 
story.     But  I  defy  you  to  name  another  instance  ! " 

"  Do  you  ?  Well,  another  man  came  along  once  after  that, 
and  told  a  sad  story,  and  applied  for  work.  His  appearance 
was  repulsive,  in  consequence  of  an  unwholesome  complexion, 
and  a  ragged  yellow  beard,  which  there  was  a  little  too  much 
of.  My  wife  was  prejudiced  against  hairy  faces  in  those 
days  ;  she  is  n't  now,  luckily  for  you,  Mr.  Daskill.  On  the 
contrary,  she  has  been  trying  to  persuade  me  not  to  shave  " 
(Mr, 'Fenway  wore  only  side-whiskers)  "  ever  since  you  came 
to  town.  She  is  looking  daggers  at  me  ;  but  the  truth  is  the 
truth." 

"Why  don't  you  tell  the  whole  truth,  while  you're  about 
it  ?  "  cried  the  irritated  little  lady.  "  Nobody  but  foreigners 
and  stragglers  wore  full  beards  in  those  days ;  and  they  al- 
ways looked  so  nasty.  I  gave  the  man  a  bowl  of  bread  and 
milk  ;  and  Marian,  who  was  a  little  thing  then,  after  seeing 
him  eat,  came  running  to  me,  and  said,  '  O  mamma  !  that  man 
is  eating  your  clean  victuals  with  his  dirty  mouth.'  She  was 
horrified,  and  I  did  n't  wonder." 

"  The  man  was  a  carpenter,  travelling  with  his  family  to 
Ohio,  when  he  was  taken  sick,  and  got  out  of  money.  I  be- 
lieved in  the  fellow,  spite  of  his  yellow  face  and  rough  beard  ; 
sent  for  his  family,  who  were  stopping  in  an  old  barn  down 
the  creek,  kept  them  a  week,  and  gave  them  all,  among  other 
things,  a  good  washing,  —  though  water,  as  I  may  as  well  say 
here,  was  a  scarce  article  with  us  then.  Our  well  failed  every 
summer ;  then  the  cistern  was  liable  to  give  out,  and  we  had 


A    VISIT    FROM    THE    OLD    FOLKS.  249 

to  fetch  water  from  the  pond,  and  from  a  spring  over  on  a 
hillside,  eighty  rods  away." 

"  You  have  splendid  water  now,"  said  Adolphus.  "  I  've 
always  admired  that  brimming  tank-full  in  your  wash-room  ; 
and  the  water  in  your  fish-pond  is  rather  cold,  isn't  it?"  giv- 
ing Mrs.  Fenway  an  inquiring  look,  in  which  there  was  the 
slightest  twinkling  reminiscence  of  her  memorable  plunge-bath 
in  March. 

"  I  Ml  tell  you  how  we  came  by  those  conveniences,"  said 
Miles.  '•  In  a  few  days  a  letter  came,  enclosing  money  for 
my  sallow-faced  carpenter,  from  his  brother ;  and  in  going 
away  he  wanted  to  give  me  something  to  remember  him  by. 
He  had  a  few  tools  with  him,  among  the  rest  a  spirit-level, 
which  he  made  me  a  present  of.  Fourth  of  July  morning,  — 
a  few  days  after,  —  I  was  amusing  myself  with  it,  when  I  took 
a  look  across  it  at  the  spring.  It  had  never  occurred  to  me 
that  that  was  any  higher  than  the  house  ;  and  I  could  hardly 
believe  my  eyes  when  the  level  showed  it  to  be  at  least  tvvelve 
or  fifteen  feet  higher,  —  a  fact  I  might  have  remained  igno- 
rant of  to  this  day,  if  it  had  n't  been  for  my  hairy-featured 
carpenter.  It  was  n't  long  before  I  had  pipes  laid,  and  the 
water  brought  to  our  premises,  so  that  my  wife  might  be 
reminded  every  day  of  her  life  that,  once  in  a  great  while  at 
least,  I  am  right  and  she  is  wrong." 

"  Oh  !  well !  a  solitary  instance  like  that !  "  said  Mrs.  Fen- 
way, bridling.  "  The  idea  !  But  that  has  nothing  to  do  with 
the  matter  in  hand.  Mr.  Daskill  will  bear  witness  that  I  am 
right  now.  What  is  the  use  of  ploddmg  all  our  lives  for  a 
bare  subsistence,  when  by  a  bold  move  a  fortune  may  be  made 
in  a  year  or  two  ?  Come,  I  want  to  live  in  a  better  house 
than  we  live  in  now  before  I  die." 

"  That 's  what  I  've  been  expecting  to  hear,"  said  Mr. 
Fenway.  "  Ah,  Marian,  you  '11  have  many  such  wishes  to 
answer  for,  I  'm  afraid.     How  many  people,  do  you  suppose, 


250  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

who  see  you  here  will  go  away  contented  with  their  old 
houses  ? " 

"  I  hope  I  sha'n't  cause  any  of  them  to  want  what  it  would 
be  wrong  for  them  to  have,"  said  Marian.  "  I  like  beautiful 
things.  I  believe  in  them.  They  are  like  sunshine  on  a 
fountain  ;  they  make  life  so  much  brighter  and  pleasanter.  I 
know  you  think  so^  father  !  " 

"  Yes,  in  a  measure  ;  and  I  fervently  pray,"  said  Miles, 
giving  her  a  look  of  unspeakable  tenderness,  "  that  your  out- 
ward blessings  will  be  all  sunbeams  to  you.  I  do  believe  in 
beauty,  and  the  rational  enjoyment  of  it.  But  many  people 
want  the  pretty  things  you  speak  of  more  for  the  sake  of 
making  a  show  with  them  than  for  any  better  reason.  And 
remember,  my  child,  that  beauty  is  n't  confined  to  works  of 
art,  and  fine  houses  and  estates.  The  sunshine  which  comes 
down  through  the  boughs  of  our  old  elm-tree  at  home,  and 
lights  up  the  speckled  sides  of  the  trout  in  the  sparkling 
water,  is  about  all  I  can  stand ;  and  as  I  watch  it,  some 
peaceful  Sunday  morning,  when  the  bells  are  ringing,  and  the 
robins  and  hangbirds  are  feeding  their  young  ones  in  the 
branches  overhead,  and  the  swallows  are  twittering,  my 
fountain,  as  you  call  it,  my  spring  of  happiness,  is  about  as 
full  and  bright  as  any  outward  circumstances  could  make  it. 
This  is  my  idea,"  added  Miles,  who  no  longer  looked  long- 
limbed  and  awkward,  in  the  midst  of  so  much  elegance,  but 
quaintly  and  austerely  graceful,  in  the  free  attitude  he  had 
unconsciously  assumed,  and  with  his  roused,  beaming,  and 
benignant  countenance,  "that  if  we  should  spend  in  culti- 
vating an  appreciation  of  the  common  daily  beauties  and 
blessings  heaven  pours  about  us,  bountiful  as  the  air,  a  little 
"  of  the  time  and  thought  we  give  to  getting  money  and  making 
a  show  with  it,  we  should  enjoy  a  happiness  we  have  never 
dreamed  of  yet." 


MR.  CAROLUS  CORRECTS  AN  ERROR.        251 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

MR.  CAROLUS  CORRECTS  AX  ERROR. 

The  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  more 
company.     But  that  was  not  the  last  of  it. 

"  Well,  you  did  do  a  smart  thing  this  evening,  if  never  be- 
fore!" Mrs.  Fenway  vigorously  reminded  her  husband,  on 
their  return  home.  "  I  'd  confine  myself  to  making  forks,  in 
future,  if  I  were  you,  and  not  make  any  more  sermons." 

"  You  think  my  forks  have  more  point  ? "'  said  good-natured 
Miles, 

"  I  thought  your  sermon  this  evening  had  point  enough,  and 
you  aimed  it  right  at  Mr.  Daskill !     Anybody  could  see  that." 

"  There  's  one  stupid  person  who  did  n't.  It  came  upon  me 
to  say  what  I  did,  and  I  'm  not  sorry.  However,  I  think  I  '11 
attend  pretty  strickly  to  fork-making  after  this." 

'•  I  would!  "  said  Mrs.  Fenway  shortly. 

"  And  let  sermons  and  oil  alone." 

"  That 's  a  different  thing !  "  And  she  proceeded  to  curtain- 
lecture  her  husband  on  that  theme,  until  sleep  mildly  inter- 
posed, and,  in  the  midst  of  her  urgent  appeals,  wafted  his 
soul  away  in  peaceful  dreams. 

She  continued  to  agitate  the  subject  during  his  waking 
hours,  and  got  Mr.  Daskill  to  talk  with  him  again,  as  the  tenth 
of  August  drew  near.  At  last  —  it  was  on  the  eighth  —  Adol 
phus  came  in  when  Mr.  Fenway  was  at  dinner,  and  intimated, 
in  his  cheerful  way,  that  if  Miles  had  provided  for  his  part  of 
the  first  payment,  he  would  like  a  draft  for  the  amount. 

"  My  part  ? "  said  Mr.  Fenway,  surprised.  "  I  have  n't  pro- 
vided for  anything.     I  have  n't  agreed  to  anything." 


252  FARNELLS    FOLLY. 

Mr.  Daskill,  surprised  in  his  turn,  looked  inquiringly  at 
Mrs.  Fenway. 

"  Well  !  I  suppose  I  may  as  well  say  it,"  remarked  the  lady. 
"  Although  you  did  n't  exactly  agree  to  it,  you  talked  so  favor- 
ably that  I  told  Mr.  Daskill  I  had  no  doubt  you  would.  And 
I  'm  sure  you  will.     I  suppose  he  is  depending  on  it  now," 

"Oh,  no!"  said  Mr.  Daskill.  "  It  makes  a  little  awkward- 
ness, that 's  all.  My  uncle  wrote  me  that  he  had  a  capital 
chance  to  place  the  other  third  ;  but,  on  the  strength  of  what 
you  said,  I  wrote  back,  telling  him  I  would  take  care  of  it. 
He  accordingly  looks  to  me  for  eight  thousand  dollars.  I  've 
provided  only  four.  I  don't  like  to  spare  any  more  —  I  am 
operating  so  largely  in  grain  and  wool  this  season.  Suppose 
we  make  this  arrangement.  You  get  the  money  from  Mr.  Car- 
olus,  and  I  give  you  my  memorandum  for  it ;  leaving  it  optional 
with  you,  any  time  within  a  year,  to  take  the  block  we  have 
reserved  for  you,  or  leave  it.  When  you  find  what  has  cost 
you  four  thousand  dollars,  worth  fifty  or  a  hundred  thousand, 
as  it  is  sure  to  be  in  twelve  months,  I  don't  think  you'll 
be  anxious  to  get  rid  of  it;  but  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  take 
it  off  your  hands,  in  any  case." 

"There!  I  am  sure  there  can't  be  anything  more  liberal 
than  that!"  said  Mrs.  Fenway. 

In  his  chair,  pushed  back  from  the  table.  Miles  sat  thought- 
ful a  minute,  then  said,  — 

"  I  can't  afford  to  take  any  risks,  and  I  don't  want  you  to 
take  any  for  me.  But,  since  you  are  depending  on  me  for  the 
money,  I  '11  borrow  it  for  you,  if  you  will  engage  to  see  that  it 
is  paid.     That 's  all  I  ask." 

"  Oh,  well !  "  replied  Adolphus,  with  overflowing  generosity, 
"  I  '11  take  care  of  that.  And  I  '11  secure  you  a  chance  to  throw 
away  fifty  thousand  dollars,  within  a  year,  if  you  want  to." 
And  he  gave  Mrs.  Fenway  a  significant  look. 

"We  '11  go  over  and  see  Mr.  Carolus,"  said  Miles. 


MR.  CAROLUS  CORRECTS  AN  ERROR.        253 

They  had  not  gone  far  when  they  met  the  old  man  on  the 
street. 

"  How  are  you  to-day,  Mr.  Carolus  ?  "  said  Mr.  Fenway. 

"  Tough,  tough ! "  replied  the  old  man,  stopping,  and  lean- 
ing on  his  stick.  "  The  old  miser  ain't  dead  yet.  The  old 
miser 's  good  for  ten  or  a  dozen  years  more,  hi,  hi !  That 's 
what  they  call  me,  and  I  let  'em.  Hard  words  break  nobody's 
bones.  Old  miser  's  as  good  a  word  as  any.  But  I  '11  live 
to  spite  'em.  I  '11  live  !  "  And  he  jerked  his  cane  up  and  set 
it  down  again  sharply. 

"  Why,  who  has  been  calling  you  hard  names  to-da}',  Mr. 
Carolus  ? " 

"  The  Wintergreen  sisters,  blast  'em  !  As  if  I  had  n't  a 
right  to  raise  my  rent.  I  've  knowed  'em,  Mr.  What's-yer-name, 
ever  since  they  was  gals;  three  of  'em;  tick  —  tack  —  tow, 
three  in  a  row,  young  fellows  used  to  say;  pretty,  folks  well 
off,  might  have  got  married,  but  they  set  up  that  they  must 
marr}'  smart ;  had  a  little  money,  afraid  to  let  a  husband 
touch  it  without  he  could  add  to  it;  so  one  after  t'other  they 
went  through  the  bars  into  the  old  maids'  pastur', — tick — tack 
—  tow,  three  in  a  row,  by  Jehoshaphat !  and  a  mighty  poor 
pastur'  they  found  it.  They've  been  paying  fifty  dollars  a 
year  for  their  half  of  the  house.  I  told  'em  I  was  going  to 
raise  —  I  must  have  fifty-fi\-e  this  year ;  and  now  I  'm  an  old 
miser,  and  what  will  become  of  my  money  when  I  die?  That's 
none  of  their  business  ;  I  've  looked  out  for  that.  They  paid 
the  rent,  blast  'em  !  and  I  ain't  dead  yet ! '' 

"  But  five  dollars  a  year  is  a  good  deal  to  them,"  observed 
Miles. 

"  It 's  a  good  deal  to  me ;  five  dollars  is  five  dollars ;  it  goes 
to  make  up  a  good  round  sum,  which  my  relations,  that  would 
like  it,  won't  get.  Ten  times  five  is  fifty ;  ten  times  fifty  is 
five  hundred;  ten  times  five  hundred  is  fi\e  thousand.  I 
learnt  the  multiplication  table  when  I  was  a  boy,  Mr.  What's- 


254  farnell's  folly. 

yer-name  and  it 's  been  useful  to  me.  Learn  to  multiply, 
learn  to  multiply,  Mr.  What's-yer-name  !  "  —  the  old  man  bran- 
dished his  stick  at  Mr.  Daskill.     "That's  my  advice  to  you." 

"  I  take  it  very  thankfully,"  said  Adolphus. 

"  He  would  like  to  take  something  else  with  it,  Mr.  Carolus. 
Ten  times  four  hundred  is  four  thousand,  I  believe  ?  " 

"  All  the  world  over.  Neighbor  Fenway.  Leastwise  it  was 
when  I  was  a  boy ;  I  don't  think  they  've  changed  it  since, 
though  there 's  no  knowing  when  they  may.  These  d — d  re- 
formers with  their  temperance  humbug,  and  women's-rights 
humbug,  and  all  their  d — d  humbugs,  they  '11  be  reforming 
the  multiplication  table  next ;  but  I  believe  ten  times  four 
hundred  is  four  thousand  as  yet.  Neighbor  Fenway." 

"Well,  Mr.  Carolus,  my  son-in-law  here  would  like  just 
that  sum  for  a  little  while, —  about  how  long  do  you  think, 
Mr.  Daskill.?" 

"  We  may  as  well  say  three  months,"  suggested  Adolphus. 

"  Hey  ? "  cried  old  Carolus,  nodding  and  tipping  over  on 
his  cane.     "  Borrow  ?  want  to  borrow  ?  " 

"Mr.  Daskill  —  "     Miles  began  to  explain. 

"  I  don't  know  Mr.  Daskill ;  never  heard  of  Mr.  Daskill. 
Name  ain't  on  my  books  at  all,  not  at  all !  "  said  the  old  man 
griml)'. 

"  It 's  time  it  was,  Mr.  Carolus  ;  he  wants  four  thousand 
dollars." 

"  Hi,  hi !  There  's  a  good  many  in  just  that  fix  ;  they  want 
four  thousand,  more  or  less  ;  generally  more.  I  wish  they 
may  get  it !  I  heartily  wish  they  may  get  it!  "  And  down  on 
the  sidewalk  went  the  emphatic  walking-stick. 

"  Then  you  won't  lend  ?  " 

"Not  to  a  stranger;  never,  Neighbor  Fenway.  It's  agin 
my  principles  ;  I  would  n't  give  a  tinker's  dam  for  his  paper. 
I  say  his;  yours  is  a  different  thing.  If  Miles  Fenway  wants 
to  borrow,  I  know  Miles  Fenway." 


MR.  CAROLUS  CORRECTS  AN  ERROR.       255 

*'  Then  let  Mr.  Daskill  give  you  his  note,  and  I  will  indorse 
it." 

"I  don't  want  anything  of  Mr.  Daskill's.  'Twill  be  a  sig- 
nature thrown  away,  so  much  ink  wasted.  Economy  is  my 
rule.  Give  me  your  note,  Miles  Fenway,  and  I  "11  draw  you  a 
check  in  ten  minutes." 

As  this  was  about  what  Miles  expected,  he  accompanied 
the  old  man  home ;  while  Adolphus,  repressing  an  ardent  de- 
sire to  break  the  insolent  old  miser's  head,  went  off  in  haste 
to  telegraph  to  his  uncle. 

On  a  rickety  pine  table,  in  a  bare  room  of  a  bare,  dilapi- 
dated house,  where  Mr.  Carolus  lived,  with  a  housekeeper 
almost  as  old  and  shrivelled  and  decrepit  as  himself,  the 
village  millionnaire  made  out  the  promised  draft,  and  received 
in  return  Miles  Fenway's  note  of  hand,  which  he  carefully 
examined,  and  then  carefully  laid  away  in  a  little  black  iron 
safe  in  the  corner. 

"  Mr.  Fenway,"  said  he,  with  a  smack,  "feel  yourself  hon- 
ored. Where's  the  next  man  whose  paper  I  would  take  to 
that  amount  without  security  ?  I  don't  know  him.  I  know 
you;  I  didn't  always.  I  made  a  mistake  once.  Please  con- 
sider it  corrected." 


256  farnell's  folly. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 


JULIA    FARNELL    AT    THE    FOLLY. 


Young  Clarence  suffered  from  repeated  attacks  of  his  dis- 
temper, after  his  arrival  at  the  Folly ;  and  more  than  once  in 
the  presence  of  the  bride.  For  her  husband's  sake,  and  out 
of  sincere  pity  for  the  stricken  youth,  Marian  tried  to  over- 
come the  feeling  of  horror  with  which  his  paroxysms  inspired 
her.  But,  weak  and  inexperienced,  and  so  young,  —  a  spoiled 
child,  accustomed  from  her  earliest  j^ears  to  have  everything 
done  for  her,  and  unschooled  in  the  austere  lessons  of  devo- 
tion and  sacrifice,  —  strong,  womanly  self-control  and  benefi- 
cence were  not  within  her  power.  She  shuddered  involunta- 
rily at  the  boy's  approach,  and  turned  away  her  eyes  from  the 
epileptic  countenance,  wild  and  vacant  from  a  recent  convul- 
sion, or  inspiring  constant  dread  of  another.  She  loved  what 
was  lovely,  but  lacked  that  mightier  virtue  of  heroic  hearts 
which  enables  them  serenely  to  encounter  what  is  loath- 
some. 

After  the  novelty  of  his  second  marriage  had  worn  ofi  a 
little,  and  the  zest  was  dulled  with  which  he  brought  his  heart 
of  old  experience  to  drink  of  this  fresh  young  fountain  of 
life,  Adolphus  was  found  to  be  a  man  of  moods.  That  easy 
air  of  confidence  and  self-satisfaction  with  which  he  met  the 
world,  often  gave  place  at  home  to  a  cloudy  discontent.  He 
had  not  the  petty  fault  of  fretfulness,  —  his  robust  tempera- 
ment and  iron  nerves  saved  him  from  that:  but  he  could  be 
stern,  and  at  times  the  portentous  gloom  of  his  spirit  filled 
the  house. 


JULIA    FARNELL    AT    THE    FOLLY.  257 

To  Marian,  formed  for  happiness  as  a  butterfly  for  the  sun- 
shine, these  dark  hours  of  her  dear  Adolphus  were  unspeak- 
ably dreadful.  At  first  she  would  fly  to  him,  when  she  saw 
him  thus,  and  endeavor  to  soothe  him  with  caresses  and  en- 
dearments. But  she  soon  found  that  these  were  not  always 
welcome.  More  than  once  he  put  her  coldly  away.  He  did  n't 
want  to  be  disturbed. 

Marian  had  a  gentle,  affectionate  nature,  and  she  had  come 
to  love  this  man  in  a  way.  If  not  the  one  above  all  others 
to  make  her  supremely  happy,  he  at  least  possessed  the 
power  of  making  her  supremely  miserable. 

"  He  loves  Clarence  better  than  he  does  me,"  she  said  to 
herself  many  times.  "  He  sees  my  dread  of  him,  and  knows 
that  my  presence  only  makes  hmi  worse,  when  I  would  so 
gladly  do  him  good  !  " 

Clarence  was  kept  generally  secluded  ;  and  visitors  came 
and  went,  and  there  was  music,  and  there  was  laughter,  and 
none  saw  the  draped  and  shadowy  shape,  the  apparition  of 
black  Care,  that  moved  through  the  magnificent  rooms,  or 
rose  Banquo-like  at  the  board,  and  often  sat  all  night  by  the 
pillow  whereon  only  blissful  brows  were  supposed  to  rest  and 
dream. 

Marian  tried  to  hide  her  trouble  under  outward  shows  of 
affection,  not  only  from  her  friends,  but  from  her  husband, 
and  even  from  herself.  And  who  that  saw  her  as  they  rode 
gayly  through  the  village  streets,  —  who  that  witnessed  their 
parting  at  the  door  when  he  went  to  his  business,  or  their 
meeting  again,  when  she  ran  out  to  him  with  radiant  welcome 
at  his  return,  —  who  could  have  doubted  that,  whether  happy 
or  not,  she  believed  herself  so,  or  was  at  least  resolutely  de- 
termmed  to  be  so  ? 

There  was  one  person  whom  she  would  gladly  have  made  a 
confidante  in  her  present  trials  as  she  had  done  in  the  past. 
But  there  was  a  coldness  between  them  now.     Julia  Farnell 
»7 


258  farnell's  folly. 

had  made  but  one  brief  and  rather  formal  call  upon  her,  since 
the  marriage  of  which  she  did  not  approve ;  and  Marian,  hav- 
ing returned  it,  brought  away  that  indescribable  heavy  feeling 
we  have,  when  a  dearly  loved  friend  is  lost  to  us  by  something 
that  seems  worse  than  death. 

"  I  must  give  her  up,  I  suppose,"  said  IMarian,  nursing  her 
wounded  heart.  But  when,  after  the  beginning  of  the  fall 
term  at  the  seminary,  she  saw  Julia  pass  and  re-pass  the 
house  every  day,  giving  her  up  did  not  seem  so  easy.  Her 
affections  went  out  to  meet  her,  and  followed  her  after  she 
had  gone  by ;  until  Marian,  the  bride,  longed  once  more  for 
the  days  when  Marian,  the  school-girl,  walked  and  talked  by 
that  dear  friend's  side. 

One  day,  unable  longer  to  resist  this  yearning,  she  went  out 
and  waylaid  Julia  on  her  return  from  the  school. 

"  Come,  now,"  she  cried,  "  I  am  not  going  to  have  this ! 
You  shall  come  into  the  house  !  Why  do  you  walk  by  in  this 
way,  and  never  turn  your  face  ?  as  if  there  were  no  such  per- 
son as  Marian  Fenway  in  the  world." 

"  Is  there  ?  "  said  Julia  softly,  as  she  suffered  herself  to  be 
led  in. 

"There  always  is  —  for  you  !  "  exclaimed  Marian  fervently. 
"  Don't  think  because  I  've  changed  my  name,  that  my  heart 
has  changed  in  the  least." 

"Are  you  sure?"  Julia  asked  with  a  smile. 

"  It  has  not  changed  towards  you,"  replied  Marian,  sitting, 
and  holding  her  friend's  hands.  "  I  can't  give  up  a  friend- 
ship so  easily  as  you  do.  But  then,"  a  quick  moisture  started 
in  her  eyes,  "  I  don't  suppose  I  was  ever  to  you  what  you 
were  to  me  ;  I  am  so  much  younger  and  so  much  more  de- 
pendent!  " 

"  There  is  something  in  that,"  said  Julia,  her  own  lips 
quivering  as  she  spoke.  "  You  were  more  dependent ;  but, 
Marian,  I  was  always  very  fond  of  you.     And  my  heart  has  n't 


JULIA  FARNELL  AT  THE  FOLLY.         259 

changed  so  much,  either,  as  you  suppose.  Circumstances 
have  changed.  You  have  another  to  depend  upon  ;  and  I 
have  others  depending  on  me.  They  take  all  my  time,  all  my 
energies,  all  my  life  ! " 

Then  Marian  saw  how  weary  the  once  brilliant  Julia  was, 
and  her  heart  smote  her. 

"  I  know  !  "  she  said.  "  You  are  wearing  out  with  hard 
work  and  care.  You  have  your  father,  your  sisters,  the  house, 
the  school ;  and  I  am  so  selfish  to  wish  to  hold  on  to  you 
still!  I  hai'e  another  to  depend  on,  and  he  is  very  dear  to 
me,  though  )-ou  don't  think  so,"'  she  added,  seeing  Julia's 
sweet,  searching,  half-pitying  look.  "But  I  need  you.  Don't 
give  me  up!  Stop  in  here  sometimes,  won't  you.?  Be  at 
home  here,  —  you  ought  to,  in  this  house.  I  often  feel  that  it 
belongs  to  you  more  than  it  does  to  me.  What  have  I  done  to 
earn  it?  And  what  have  you  done  to  forfeit  it.?  O  Julia,  I 
may  as  well  say  it,  I  can't  be  happy  in  the  enjoyment  of  this 
beautiful  home  while  I  see  you  walk  by  looking  so  forlorn!" 

"  Forlorn  >.  Do  I  look  forlorn  ?  "  said  Julia,  with  a  laugh 
and  a  blush.  '•  I  don't  feel  so.  I  am  a  little  tired  sometimes, 
that  IS  all.  I  am  glad  the  house  has  fallen  into  such  good 
hands-,  don't  think  for  a  moment,  Marian,  that  I  am  nourish- 
ing a  sense  of  wrong,  because  it  is  your  home  and  not  mine. 
Hard  as  my  life  is  now,  I  am  inclined  to  think  I  am  better  off 
tlian  I  should  be  if  everything  had  gone  smoothly  with  us, 
and  we  had  not  lost  this  place.  Life  means  such  different 
things  to  me  now  ! "' 

Marian  sat  back  in  her  chair,  and  gazed  wistfully  at  her 
friend. 

"  I  wonder  at  you,  Julia  !"  she  said.  ''  You  were  brought 
up  very  much  as  I  was,  always  petted  and  indulged ;  and  yet 
you  are  not  like  me.  I  could  never  have  met  adversity  as  you 
have.  You  are  so  strong  in  mind  and  will,  I  mean;  so  patient 
and  cheerful  under  it  all.     Julia,  1  envy  you  !  " 


26o  farnell's  folly. 

"  You  forget,"  said  Julia,  "  that  I  had  a  discipline  which  you 
had  not.  For  years  I  was  in  my  mother's  place.  That  pre- 
pared me  for  what  followed.  What  we  most  need,  I  have  faith 
to  believe,  will  be  given  us.  Your  lot  is  very  different  from 
mine,  and  you  will  not  so  much  need  the  qualities  you  envy- 
in  me." 

"Julia,"  Marian  broke  forth  impulsively,  "I  need  them 
now.  You  think  everything  is  beautiful  here.  Well,  every- 
thing is  beautiful.  I  have  all  I  wish,  and  more,  far  more. 
But  1  have  a  duty  here,  —  oh,  do  let  me  tell  you  !  —  a  duty 
which  I  have  n't  the  strength  to  fulfil." 

And  Julia  had  the  pain  of  seeing  the  beautiful  and  fortunate 
one  give  away  to  tears.  She  was  deeply  moved  ;  and  em- 
bracing her,  she  said,  —  ^ 

"  Can  I  help  you  7     Tell  me  all,  if  you  wish  to." 

"  I  have  n't  told  any  one  yet,  not  even  my  mother,"  replied 
Marian,  after  a  pause,  and  with  now  and  then  a  recurring 
sob.  "You  are  the  only  person  I  can  tell.  Don't  think  I  am 
unhappy.  I  have  only  one  trouble  —  oh,  if  I  had  your  cour- 
age and  firmness  to  meet  that !  " 

She  then  went  on  and  gave  an  account  of  Clarence,  and  or 
Mr.  Daskill's  very  great  tenderness  for  him.  Julia's  counte- 
nance glistened. 

"  I  shall  think  more  of  Mr.  Daskill  after  this,"  she  said. 
"  Such  an  attachment,  in  a  person  of  such  pride,  seems  to  me 
very  noble." 

"Oh,  I  think  so!"  said  Marian.  "  It  makes  me  love  and 
admire  him  all  the  more.  And  it  makes  me  despise  myse//, 
because  I  can't  get  over  the  repugnance  I  feel,  and  do  for 
poor  Clarence  what  a  sister,  what  a  mother  should  !  " 

"  Who  has  the  care  of  him  ?  " 

"  His  father  is  his  physician ,  and  his  aunt,  Mrs.  Downey, 
has  him  specially  in  charge.  She  takes  him  out  to  walk  or  to 
ride  occasionally,  and  scarcely  leaves  him,  except  when  her 


JULIA    FARNELL    AT    THE    FOLLY.  26 1 

duties  as  housekeeper  require  it ;  then  Gaines,  tlie  gardener, 
stays  with  him.  He  doesn't  lack  for  care ,  but  is  n"t  it  pitiful, 
Julia,  that  I  can  do  nothing  for  him  —  that  my  agitation, 
when  I  see  him,  helps  to  bring  on  his  attacks  ?  He  is 
much  worse  than  he  was,  and  I  fear  that  I  am  partly  the 
cause." 

"  His  father  does  not  blame  you  ?  "  questioned  Julia. 

"  Oh,  no !  And  yet,"  said  Marian,  feelmg  that  she  must 
not  tell  her  friend  a  downright  untruth,  "  he  is  not  satisfied 
with  me,  as  he  would  be  if  I  could  do  something  for  his  son, 
—  that  is  natural.  Of  course  he  sees  my  shortcomings, 
though  not,  perhaps  as  I  see  them.     I  hope  not !  " 

Julia  was  considering  what  she  should  say  to  give  her 
friend  strength  and  comfort  in  her  trying  situation,  when,  of  a 
sudden,  Marian,  with  a  look  and  a  cry  of  horror,  clapped 
both  hands  to  her  ears.  The  cause  was  no  mystery  to  Julia. 
A  sound,  of  which  she  would  have  taken  no  heed  but  for  the 
revelation  she  had  just  heard,  echoed  through  the  hall.  She 
knew  that  it  was  caused  by  the  epileptic  boy.  He  had,  in 
fact,  slipped  away  from  Gaines  in  the  garden,  entered  the 
house  alone,  and  been  taken  with  a  fit  almost  at  the 
drawing-room  door. 

When  Adolphus  came  in  a  few  minutes  later,  he  found 
Marian  by  the  staircase,  wild  with  consternation,  wringing 
her  helpless  hands,  while  she  bent  over  somebody  sitting  on 
the  hall  floor.  Rushing  forward,  he  saw  a  pale  and  beautiful 
girl  there,  holding  Clarence's  head  in  her  lap,  and  pitifully 
wiping  the  foam  from  his  lips.  He  gav^e  her  a  look  of 
intense  gratitude  and  admiration,  said  calmly,  "  You  are 
very  kind  to  us  in  our  affliction  !  "  and  taking  the  form  of  the 
prostrate  boy  from  her  arms,  bore  him  away. 

Julia  was  near  famting  when  she  reached  the  parlor  and 
sank  in  a  chair. 

"  Oh  !  is  n't  it  terrible  ?  "  said  Marian. 
% 


262  farnell's  folly, 

''  It  is  terrible ! "  Julia  answered  in  a  subdued  voice. 
"And  it  is  something  which  you,  Marian,  ought  not  to 
undergo.  You  are  not  equal  to  it.  It  should  not  be 
expected  of  you.  Don't  blame  yourself  any  more.  Poor 
boy  !     Poor,  dear  Marian  !     Oh,  how  I  pity  you  all !  " 

"  Vou  did  what  I  never  could  do ! "  said  Marian,  with 
bitter  enw,  remembering  the  look  Adolphus  had  given  her 
friend. 

"  I  have  a  little  more  nen^e  than  you.  I  only  thought. 
What  can  I  do  for  hun  ?  I  forgot  everj'thing  else  in  the 
compassion  I  felt."' 

"  O  Julia,  if  I  could  do  that !  But  I  am  such  a  miserable 
coward ! " 

Adolphus  came  into  the  room  soon  after,  and  was  for  the 
first  time  formally  made  acquainted  with  Ward  Farnell's 
daughter.  He  thanked  her  again  for  her  kind  attention  to 
Clarence,  apologized  for  the  pain  which  the  scene  must  have 
cost  her,  and  begged  the  privilege  of  driving  her  home. 
She  declined  the  offer,  saying  she  needed  the  walk,  and 
presently  took  her  leave,  the  eyes  of  Adolphus  following  her 
with  such  a  look  as  he  used  to  give  Marian,  but  gave  her  now 
no  more. 

"  I  did  n't  know  Ward  Farnell  had  such  a  daughter ! "  he 
exclaimed,  as  he  turned  away  from  the  window. 

"  You  have  seen  her  in  the  street,  and  I  told  you  long  ago 
how  beautiful  she  was,"  said  Marian,  trying  to  put  a  cheerful 
face  on  her  misery. 

''  Beautiful  —  yes  ! "  said  Adolphus,  pacing  the  floor.  "  But 
she  is  a  person  of  character.  I  am  quite  astonished.  Why 
don't  you  cultivate  her  acquaintance?" 

This  was  turning  the  arrow  in  Marian's  heart.  For  a 
moment  she  was  silent,  choking  with  jealousy  and  a  sense  of 
wrong.  Then  she  said,  with  a  tinge  of  bitterness  in  her 
tones,  — 

* 


y 


JULIA  FARNELL  AT  THE  FOLLY.         263 

"  She  has  no  time  now  to  give  to  her  old  friends.  I  have 
told  you  all  along  how  superior  she  is  to  me  in  everything ; 
how  much  I  prize  her  friendship,  and  how  I  miss  it.  You 
don't  seem  to  remember  a  word  I  have  said.  One  would 
think  you  had  never  heard  of  her  before." 

He  seemed  hardly  to  heed  what  she  said  now. 

"That's  the  daughter  Farnell  built  this  house  for,"  he 
resumed,  going  again  to  the  window.  "  She  deserved  it.  An 
uncommon  girl  I  It  might  have  made  a  difference  in  his 
fortunes,  when  we  stripped  him,  if  I  had  known!" 

"  It  is  a  pity  you  hadn't !  "  said  Marian,  in  the  anguish  of 
her  heart. 

He  made  no  reply,  but  returned  to  his  son's  chamber. 


264  farnell's  folly. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

HOW    MARIAN    MADE    CHOICE    OF    A    COMPANION. 

Adolphus  did  not  speak  of  Julia  again  very  soon  ;  and 
Marian,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  was  not  eager  to  bring  her  too 
much  admired  friend  into  the  house.  She  wanted  peace ;  she 
wanted  love  ;  and  we  can  hardly  blame  her  if  she  shrank 
from  exposing  herself  to  unfavorable  contrasts  in  his  eyes. 
The  poor  child  was  getting  to  have  a  morbidly  acute  idea  of 
her  own  insignificance. 

But  the  husband's  moods  were  not  less  frequent  or  less 
dark  after  this.  One  evening  when  he  was  in  one  of  them, 
she  detected  his  eyes  fixed  upon  her  with  deep  and  sullen 
discontent.  It  was  more  than  she  could  bear  ;  she  did  not 
offer  to  caress  him,  but  flung  herself  down  on  her  knees  be- 
fore him  :  — 

"  Oh,  what  have  I  done  to  displease  you  ? "  she  said  de- 
spairingly, as  she  looked  up  into  his  lowering  face. 

"It  is  nothing  you  have  done,"'  he  answered,  with  the 
slightest  significance  of  stress  on  the  last  word. 

"  I  know,"  she  exclaimed,  "  it  is  what  I  have  not  done, 
what  I  cannot  do.  Dear,  dear  Adolphus,  do  not  hate  me  for 
that;  I  told  you  in  the  beginning  what  a  mere  child  —  what  a 
poor,  weak,  inefficient  thing  —  I  was.  You  promised  not  to 
expect  too  much  of  me ;  do  not  now  !  Do  love  me  a  little  for 
what  I  am,  as  you  said  you  would  always,  and  forgive  me  for 
what  I  am  not !  It  kills  me  to  see  you  so  unhappy,  and  to 
know  that  I  am  the  cause  !  " 

Her  face  all  tears  and  entreaty,  her  voice  broken   by  sobs. 


HOW    MARIAN    MADE    CHOICE    OF    A    COMPANION.       26$ 

she  knelt  and  implored  him.  He  made  no  reply  ;  but  un- 
clasping her  hands  from  his  knees,  —  not  roughly,  but  firmly 
and  coldl}^  —  got  up.  She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands, 
and  bowed  her  head  to  the  floor ;  there  he  left  her  sobbing, 
and  lighting  a  cigar,  walked  out  of  the  house. 

She  did  not  dare  follow  and  cling  to  him;  she  could  only 
wait,  in  the  utmost  wretchedness,  for  his  mood  to  pass,  and 
then  once  more,  for  a  little  while,  be  as  happy  as  she  might. 

They  had  accepted  an  invitation  to  visit  the  old  folks  the 
next  day  ;  Marian  was  to  go  down  and  spend  the  afternoon 
with  her  family,  and  Mr.  Daskill  was  to  come  to  tea.  She 
was  not  in  a  fit  state  to  meet  the  engagement ;  but  it  had 
been  made  and  she  went. 

She  summoned  her  happiest  smiles  to  meet  her  mother, 
and  keep  that  dear  good  woman  deceived.  But  somehow  at 
a  touch  her  brimming  heart  overflowed,  and  she  sobbed  out 
her  woes  on  her  maternal  breast. 

Mrs.  Fenway  was  filled  with  a  fury  of  grief  and  indignation; 
and  had  Adolphus  made  his  appearance  at  five  o'clock  when 
he  was  expected,  there  is  no  doubt  but  that  she  would  have 
eased  her  burdened  mind  with  regard  to  him,  then  and  there. 

But  Mr.  Daskill  came  late,  for  reasons;  and  when  he  did 
come  the  family  were  waiting  to  sit  down  at  supper,  which 
had  been  delayed  on  his  account;  so  Mrs.  Fenway  bridled 
her  tongue,  and  masked  the  malice  of  her  soul  in  smiling 
civility,  comforted  with  the  reflection  that  what  she  had  to 
say  to  that  monster  of  cruelty  and  ingratitude  would  keep. 
If  the  snap  of  her  eye  was  at  the  same  time  slightly  vindic- 
tive, and  her  manner  towards  him  perceptibly  sardonic,  the 
tea's  delay,  and  her  known  infirmity  of  temper,  were  consid- 
ered cause  enough. 

Then,  if  you  will  believe  it,  that  monster  of  cruelty  and  in- 
gratitude was  in  his  most  amiable  mood.  The  reasons  he 
gave  for  coming  late  were  abundantly  satisfactory  (until  differ- 


266  farnell's  folly. 

ent  ones  were  discovered);  and  he  went  on  to  praise  the  pros- 
pects of  the  new  oil  speculation  in  a  manner  truly  enchanting; 
so  that  Mrs.  Fenway  half  forgot  her  wrath,  and  whispered  to 
Marian  at  parting,  that  she  believed  it  would  all  come  out 
right  after  all. 

Mr.  Daskill's  good  spirits  did  not  forsake  him  when  he 
reached  home  with  his  wife.  He  became  more  serious  than  he 
had  been  during  the  evening,  but  his  voice  and  manner  were 
very  kind,  as  he  sat  down  beside  her,  and  spoke  in  this  wise : 

"  Marian,  I  've  been  thinking  a  good  deal  about  you  to-day. 
Your  position  here  hasn't  been  just  what  it  should  be;  and 
you  have  n't  been  so  happy  as  I  hoped  to  make  you." 

Her  heart  fluttered  up  to  him  like  a  dove,  and  she  hastened 
to  assure  him, — 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  have  been  quite  happy  much  of  the  time  :  I 
have  enjoyed  so  many  things !  I  should  have  been  entirely 
happy,  if  I  could  have  felt  that  I  made  you  so." 

"Well,  it  is  not  your  fault,  nor  altogether  mine,  perhaps," 
he  replied,  "  that  some  shadows  have  come  between  us.  What 
I  want  is,  to  make  your  position  easier  in  future." 

"O  Adolphus,  you  are  kind!"  said  Marian,  hardly  able  to 
repress  tears  of  gratitude  and  hope  that  sprang  to  her  eyes. 

"  I  mean  to  be,"  he  said,  in  his  large,  generous  way.  "  And 
I  've  been  trying  to  devise  a  plan  to  make  your  winter  pass 
pleasantly.  I  hope  you  will  not  be  disappointed  because  we 
are  not  going  to  live  in  town.  I  can't  very  well  be  long  away 
from  my  business  here ;  and  mj''  expenses  are  so  great,  I 
thought  best  to  let  our  town  house  for  the  season." 

Marian  protested  that  she  preferred  to  be  near  her  friends. 
"  If  only  you  are  here  too  !  "  she  said,  leaning  fondly  on  his 
shoulder,  as  of  old. 

"  I  shall  be  with  you  all  I  can.  But  I  shall  have  business 
in  various  places,  which  will  take  me  away  a  good  deal.  You 
need  a  companion  in  the  house.     I  know  that  my  aunt,  though 


HOW    MARIAN    MADE    CHOICE    OF    A    COMPANION.       267 

a  very  worthy  and  competent  person,  is  not  one  from  whom 
you  can  get  much  sympathy ;  her  range  of  feeling  and  her 
sphere  of  activity  are  so  remote  from  yours.  Now,  when  I 
say  a  companion,  I  mean  one  who  will  be  both  a  comfort  and 
a  help  to  you.     What  do  you  think  ?  " 

Surprised  at  the  proposition,  j^et  pleased  that  he  should  be 
so  mindful  of  her,  Marian  replied  that  she  thought  the  right 
kind  of  a  companion  would  be  very  desirable. 

'"I  am  glad  the  idea  strikes  you  favorably,"  said  Adolphus. 
"Think  of  it,  and  let  me  know  if  there  is  any  person  you 
prefer." 

"  Have  you  any  in  your  mind  ?  "  Marian  inquired,  anxious 
to  please  him  in  all  things. 

"  It  is  n't  for  me  to  choose  your  companion,"  he  said,  with 
a  smile. 

"  But,  dearest,  the  first  consideration  with  me  is,  that  she 
must  be  a  person  you  will  like," 

"  I  am  sure  to  like  any  one  you  would  choose.  There  is  no 
need  of  deciding  hastily.  Take  time  to  consider  it,  —  unless 
you  happen  to  think  of  somebody  at  once." 

"  There  's  Nancy  Seymour,"  said  Marian.  "  A  very  pretty 
girl.  She  told  me  she  would  like  to  board  somewhere  near 
the  seminary  and  go  to  school  this  winter." 

"A  boarder?  That  would  n't  do  at  all.  And  I  wouldn't 
take  a  school-girl.  What  you  want  is  a  woman  of  more  years 
and  experience  than  yourself.  A  lady  in  her  manners,  and 
yet  one  who  can  help  you  about  your  sewing." 

Marian  thought  again. 

"  There  's  Miss  Norcross.  You  saw  her  at  my  mother's 
some  time  ago.  She  says  her  health  will  not  allow  her  to 
teach  school  much  longer,  and  she  and  I  always  liked  each 
other." 

"That  everlasting  talker?"  said  Adolphus,  with  a  laugh. 
"You'd  soon  tire  of  hearing  her  tongue  run,  at  least  I  should. 


268  farnell's  folly. 

No;  what  you  want  for  every-day  wear  is  a  more  quiet  person, 

—  one  who  is  not  a  great  talker." 

Marian  was  beginning  to  think  her  choice  in  this  matter 
would  turn  out,  as  it  usually  did  in  others,  to  be,  after  all,  his 
choice.     He  went  on,  — 

"And  there  's  another  thing  to  be  considered,  —  our  pecul- 
iar circumstances  here.  A  woman  of  a  little  different  tem- 
perament from  yours  might  do  so  much  for  Clarence  !  But 
she  must  be  a  person  of  steady  nerves." 

The  appalling  thought  occurred  to  Marian  that  Julia 
Farnell  Avas  secretly  in  her  husband's  mind.  All  her  jealousy 
was  roused. 

"  If  he  means  her,"  thought  she,  "  he  shall  say  so ;  I  will 
not  mention  her  name.  Then  he  shall  have  the  pleasure  of 
knowing  that  she  cannot  be  had  on  any  terms.  Leave  her 
father  and  sisters  to  come  here?  He  doesn't  know  her  as 
I  do." 

She  remained  silent;  but  seeing  that  he  rather  insisted  on 
continuing  the  subject,  she  at  last  ventured  another  sugges- 
tion, knowing  well  that  he  would  reject  it,  and,  indeed,  hoping 
that  he  would. 

"  I  can't  think  of  anybody  else,  unless  it  is  Miss  Clewsey. 
She  says  she  has  got  tired  of  dress-making,  and  she  would  be 
glad  to  come,  I  am  sure."' 

"  Miss  Clewsey  ?  "  said  Adolphus.  "  I  remember  the  name  ; 
but  somehow  I  "ve  got  her  mixed  up  with  Mrs.  Thackers  and 

—  what   is   the    other   woman's   name    who  sewed  for  you.'' 
Lottie's  friend." 

"Mrs.  Chilgrove,"  said  Marian. 

"Oh,  yes;  Mrs.  Chilgrove.  Miss  Clewsey  was  the  stupid 
one,  I  believe." 

"  She  is  n't  stupid ;  though  I  can't  say  she  is  particularly 
bright." 

"A  good  needle-woman,  I  think  you  said,"  rejoined  Adol- 


HOW    MARIAN    MADI^:    CHOICE   OF    A    COMPANION.       269 

phus,  as  if  inclined  to  consider  the  matter  favorably.  "That 's 
one  very  desirable  qualification.  But  you  ought  to  have  an 
intelligent  person,  —  one  capable  of  saying  a  bright  thing, 
now  and  then,  to  let  us  know  she  is  alive." 

"  When  you  come  to  very  fine  needle-work,  she  is  n't  the 
equal  of  —  there  !  "  suddenly  exclaimed  Marian.  "  Why 
did  n't  I  think  of  her  before  ?  Mrs.  Chilgrove  !  She  is  quiet, 
she  is  bright,  she  is  thirty,  a  lady  in  her  manners,  and  a 
person  of  calm  nerves  and  self-control ;  she  fulfils  all  the 
requirements." 

"  She  is  the  woman  with  the  short  hair  ? "  queried 
Adolphus. 

"  No,  that  is  Mrs.  Thackers.  It  was  Mrs.  Chilgrove  who 
said  she  admired  your  taste  in  silk  and  shoulders." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  I  remember,"  laughed  Adolphus.  "  I  thought 
that  rather  bright.  I  walked  home  with  her  and  the  Lor- 
kinses,  and  she  paid  you  some  very  pretty  compliments. 
Mrs.  Chilgrove, —  I  mustn't  forget  that  name  again." 

"  Is  there  any  objection  to  her  ?  "  said  Marian. 

"Why,  no,  —  not  if  you  like  her.  But  can  you  get  her? 
Is  n't  she  a  fixture  of  Lottie's?  I  wouldn't  try  to  take  her 
away  from  your  sister,"  said  Adolphus,  rather  discouragingly. 

Marian  was  so  delighted  to  think  she  might  have  been 
mistaken  as  to  his  preferring  Julta  Farnell,  that  she  became 
enthusiastic  over  her  new  discover}^ 

"  Lottie  has  really  no  room  for  her,"  she  said,  "  and  will  be 
glad  to  have  her  find  a  good  place  somewhere  else." 

"  If  that  is  so,  I  shall  make  no  objection ;  but  I  advise  you, 
before  engaging  her,  to  inquire  very  particularly  about  her  of 
Lottie.  Perhaps,  after  all,  you  will  think  of  somebody  you 
like  better." 

Adolphus  spoke  ver)'  disinterestedly,  and  Marian  rejoiced 
to  think  that  she  was  really  to  have  her  choice  in  an  impor- 
tant matter,  for  once. 


2/0  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

MRS.    CHILGROVE    IS   TAKEN    INTO    CONFIDENCE. 

The  next  day  Marian  went  to  carry  the  pleasant  news  to  her 
mother.  Not  finding  her  at  home,  she  questioned  black  Nance 
about  her.    Nance  giggled,  hung  her  head,  and  finally  explained. 

"  She  put  on  her  bunnet  about  an  hour  ago,  and  went  off 
out  the  back  door.  I  s'pose  she  was  going  to  the  woods  to  cut 
some  licks." 

"  What  for  ? "  said  Marian. 

"  To  lick  me  with,"  the  girl  replied,  with  a  crafty  look  and 
a  defiant  titter.  "  I  been  watching  for  her,  ready  to  run. 
She 's  been  gone  so  long  now  I  guess  she  's  got  over  her  mad 
fit.     Mabbe  she  did  n't  go  for  the  licks." 

"  What  was  she  angry  at  ? " 

"  I  d'n'  know  !  sumpthing  happened  last  night.  But  I  wa'n't 
to  blame  if  Mr.  Daskill  did  come  late  to  tea." 

"That  was  nothing,"  said  Marian.  "Mother  didn't  mind 
anything  about  it,  after  she  heard  his  explanation." 

"  Guess  you  would  n't  say  that.  Miss,  if  you'd  seen  the  shak- 
ing-up  she  give  me  when  I  told  her!     Did  n't  I  ketch  it !" 

"  Told  her  what .?  " 

"  How  I  got  wet  bringing  home  the  cows,  and  how  I  seen 
—  O  Lordy  Massy  !  "  suddenly  exclaimed  Nance,  dodging  out 
of  danger,  "  there  she  is  now  !  " 

Mrs.  Fenway  came  in  by  the  back  way,  without  the  "  licks," 
but  looking  marvellously  red  and  excited.  She  had,  in  fact, 
been  all  the  morning  engaged  in  an  arduous  investigation  of 
the  true  cause  of  Mr.  Daskill's  coming  late  to  tea ;    and  had 


MRS.    CHILGROVE    IS    TAKEN    INTO    CONFIDENCE.       2/1 

been  much  inflamed,  both  in  body  and  mind,  by  the  exercise 
involved  and  the  discoveries  made.  At  sight  of  Marian,  how- 
ever, she  smoothed  her  ruffled  features,  sat  down  fanning  her- 
self, and  with  hard,  forced  smiles  heard  the  news. 

"  And,  only  think  !  "  Marian  added,  anxious  to  counteract 
the  effect  of  her  indiscreet  confession  of  yesterday,  "he  has 
left  the  choice  entirely  to  me.  Is  n't  he  kind  }  He  said  this 
morning  I  had  better  consult  you  about  it ;  what  you  and  I 
agree  to  will  satisfy  him.  He  is  very  desirous  to  make  me 
happy,  and  I  am  happy  already.  I  ///////&  he  had  somebody 
else  in  his  mind,  but  he  would  n't  say  so,  and  he  made  no 
serious  objection  when  /named  Mrs.  Chilgrove." 

"  Mrs.  Chilgrove  !  Well  !  jou  may  get  along  with  her, 
though  /  could  n't,"  said  Mrs.  Fenway.  "  I  hope  the  man  's 
in  earnest,  and  won't  back  out  as  soon  as  you  've  really  made 
a  choice." 

"I  don't  think  he  will,"  replied  Marian.  "All  he  requires 
is  that  Lottie  should  give  her  a  good  recommendation,  since 
we  know  so  little  about  her." 

"That  she  will  do,  fast  enough.  Nance  !"  cried  Mrs.  Fen- 
way. Nance  peeped  in  timidly.  "  Run  right  down  and  tell 
Lottie,  Marian  and  I  want  to  see  her  about  something  very 
important." 

Nance  went  and  Lottie  came.  Mrs.  Fenway,  in  the  mean 
while,  had  time  to  cool  a  little,  and  to  reflect  that  here  might 
be  an  opportunity  to  solve  a  certain  mystery,  and  perhaps  end 
Marian's  troubles. 

Lottie  expressed  some  surprise  at  Marian's  choice  ;  wonder- 
ing why  she  had  not  preferred  a  person  of  her  own  age  and 
tastes. 

"  I  thought  of  that,"  said  Marian  ;  "  but  I  need  some  one  of 
more  years  and  experience." 

"  Well,"  said  Lottie,  "  I  have  n't  a  word  to  say  against  Mrs. 
Chilgrove.     She   is  kind-hearted;    minds  her  own  business; 


272  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

and,  I  must  add,  keeps  her  own  counsel.  /  have  never  yet 
been  able  to  get  very  deep  in  her  confidence  ;  but  perhaps 
you  can.  There  's  a  pretty  large  chamber  which  she  keeps 
shut." 

"  Every  person  has  such  a  chamber,  large  or  small,  I  sup- 
pose," said  Mrs.  Fenway,  reflecting  what  a  dark  one  she  was 
at  the  moment  keeping  carefully  locked  from  her  own 
daughters. 

Marian  sighed  ;  she  was  young  to  be  having  her  dismal  secret 
chamber  too.     Her  mother  went  on,  — 

"  If  she  can  keep  her  own  counsel — that's  one  merit.  I 
hate  a  blabber.     Of  course  she  will  jump  at  the  chance." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Lottie.  "  She  has  very  strange  and 
positive  notions  about  some  things;  and  I  may  as  well  tell  you 
that  she  does  n't  like  Mr.  Daskill." 

Marian  looked  alarmed ;  but  her  mother  hastened  to 
say,  — 

"  All  the  better.  You  don't  want  a  companion  that  will  like 
your  husband,  or  that  your  husband  will  like,  too  well." 

No,  Marian  confessed  to  herself  that  she  did  n't.  But  what 
reason  had  Lottie  for  her  opinion  ? 

"  Oh,  she  shows  that  she  does  n't  fancy  him  ;  and  she  has 
said  as  much.  Two  or  three  times,  when  we've  been  in  the 
store  together,  I  've  noticed  that  she  has  avoided  speaking  to 
him.  To  tell  the  honest  truth,"  added  Lottie  bluntly,  "  she 
thinks  he  did  n't  behave  very  honorably  in  getting  you  away 
from  Will  Rayburn." 

Marian  blushed  violently. 

"Perhaps  you  won't  want  her  after  that,"  said  Lottie. 

But  Marian  could  not  have  it  in  her  heart  to  blame  Mrs. 
Chilgrove  for  feeling  so. 

"  How  about  her  temper  ?  "  Mrs.  Fenway  inquired.  "That 's 
an  important  point  in  a  person  you  are  going  to  live  with." 
None  of  the  good  lady's  friends  would   have  disputed   that. 


MRS.    CFIILGUOVE    IS    TAKEN    INTO    CONFIDENCE.       273 

She  went  on,  not  noticing  Lottie's  peculiar  smile :  "  She 
snapped  me  up  so  short  once  she  fairly  took  my  breath  away ; 
but  I  suppose  I  was  mostly  to  blame." 

"  Marian  will  have  no  trouble  with  her  on  that  account ;  I 
never  had  any,"  said  Lottie. 

"  Then  suppose  we  send  for  her  at  once.  Nance,  go  down 
and  stay  with  the  baby,  and  tell  Mrs.  Chilgrove  we  '11  be  evei 
so  much  obliged  to  her  if  she  will  step  up  here  a  minute." 

Mrs.  Fenway  felt  already  that  she  was  going  to  be  on  very 
friendly  terms  with  her  daughter's  future  companion.  She  re- 
ceived her  with  great  cordiality,  and  presented  the  matter  to 
her  in  its  most  favorable  aspect.  Mrs.  Chilgrove  listened  with 
surprise,  reflected  gravely,  asked  a  few  pertinent  questions 
with  regard  to  the  position  she  would  be  expected  to  fill,  then 
held  out  her  hand  to  IMarian  with  a  smile,  and  frankly  accepted 
the  proposal.  The  little  business  ended,  Lottie  ran  home 
to  her  baby,  and  Marian  hastened  to  carry  the  gratifying  news 
to  Adolphus  at  the  store. 

"  Wait  a  minute, — will  you  be  so  good,  Mrs.  Chilgrove?" 
said  Mrs.  Fenway,  as  the  lady  was  going  too.  "  Now  that  you 
are  to  be  my  daughter's  companion,  I  would  like  to  have  a 
little  friendly  talk  with  you." 

Long  as  Mrs.  Chilgrove  had  been  the  companion  of  another 
daughter,  she  had  never  before  been  so  honored  by  Mrs.  Fen- 
way. There  was  just  a  shade  of  some  such  thought  in  her 
mild  reply. 

"  I  have  for  a  long  time  wished  to  become  better  acquainted 
with  Lottie's  mother." 

"  That  is  very  kind  !  "  said  Mrs.  Fenway.  "  Dear  Mrs.  Chil- 
grove, my  heart  goes  out  to  you  in  a  strange  manner.  The 
more  I  think  of  it,  the  more  plainly  I  see  that  you  are  the  most 
suitable  person  my  daughter  could  have  chosen." 

"I  shall   hope  to  deserve  your  good   opinion,"  said   the 
modest  Mrs.  Chilgrove. 
18 


2/4  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

It  was  gusty  weather  with  Mrs.  Fenway.  She  sighed,  and 
wiped  her  eyes. 

"You  can  do  so  much  for  my  dear  Marian, — more  than 
you  think,  more  than  she  dreams,  poor  girl!  O  Mrs.  Chil- 
grove,   I  think  I  can  trust  you  !  " 

There  was  another  gust.  Mrs.  Chilgrove  kept  her  softly 
scintillant,  greenish-gray  eyes  on  the  weeping  woman,  wonder- 
ing what  was  to  come. 

"  Say  !  can  I  trust  you  ?  " 

Mrs.  Fenway  looked  up  appealingly.  Mrs.  Chilgrove 
dropped  her  eyes  innocently,  and  smiled  like  an  angel. 

"  Implicitly,  my  dear  Mrs.  Fenway  !  " 

"  Thank  you,  dear  Mrs.  Chilgrove  I  I  have  a  great  burden 
on  my  mind.  No  one  knows  it,  not  one  of  my  own  family 
suspects  ;  not  even  Marian,  though  it  is  all  on  her  account.  It 
has  seemed  as  if  I  should  die,  if  I  could  n't  tell  somebody  !  " 

"  I  know  what  it  is  to  need  a  friend  to  confide  in,"  said 
Mrs.  Chilgrove  gently.     "You  can  confide  in  me." 

"Whether  you  can  help  me  or  not,"  Mrs.  Fenway  pro- 
ceeded, "  I  feel  sure  you  will  not  betray  my  secret.  You 
are  not  a  blabbing  woman ;  we  have  found  that  out.  Now, 
you  mustn't  let  me  prejudice  you  against  anybody,  in  what  I 
am  going  to  say.  I  understand,  to  begin  with,  that  you  don't 
like  my  son-in-law  very  well." 

"  Mr.  Lorkins  ?  I  've  a  very  hearty  liking  for  Mr.  Lor- 
kins,"  said  Mrs.  Chilgrove. 

"  I  mean  Mr.  Daskill." 

"  I  have  n't  seen  enough  of  Mr.  Daskill  to  know  whether  I 
like  him  or  not.  The  two  or  three  times  we  have  happened 
to  meet,  he  has  been  very  polite  to  me." 

"Yes,  he's  a  polite  man.  And,  certainly,  a  remarkable 
man  in  some  respects.  And  a  good  man,  Mrs.  Chilgrove,  I 
don't  know  but  he  is  a  very  good  man.  But  there  's  one 
thing  that  distresses  me,  —  a  perfect  mystery  as  yet,  which 


MRS.    CHILGROVE    IS    TAKEN    INTO    CONFIDENCE.       2/5 

you  may  help  me  clear  up.  It  concerns  my  dear  Marian. 
I'm  afraid  —  I'm  afraid,  Mrs.  Chilgrove,"  Mrs.  Fenway 
added,  in  great  agitation,  "I  have  reason  to  beheve  —  he 
isn't  true  to  her." 

"You  surprise  me  !"  said  Mrs.  Chilgrove,  one  of  her  rare, 
faint  flushes  stealing  over  her  naturally  pale  features. 

"  Perhaps  I  state  it  too  strongly.  I  hope  so.  But  a 
mother's  fears,  you  know  !  And  one  thing  I  am  sure  of,"  — 
Mrs.  Fenway  lowered  her  voice,  and  fixed  her  tearful,  excited 
eyes  on  her  companion,  —  "he  meets  a  strange  woman  in 
secret  places  ! " 

"You  amaze  me!"  murmured  Mrs.  Chilgrove;  and  passed 
a  cool  hand  over  her  face. 

"There  maybe  nothing  very  wrong  about  it,  but  it  has  a 
bad  look.  The  fact  that  he  keeps  it  such  a  dreadful  mystery 
is  against  him.  Oh,  it  would  kill  my  dear  Marian  if  she 
should  find  it  out !  " 

"  Who  is  the  woman  ?  "  Mrs.  Chilgrove  calmly  inquired. 

"  That  I  don't  know,  more  than  the  man  in  the  moon.  She 
comes  like  a  ghost  rising  out  of  the  ground,  and  vanishes  as 
mysteriously.  I  've  made  diligent  inquiries,  and  I  can't  put 
my  finger  on  her  an)-\vhere.  I  think  she  comes  from  a  dis- 
tance and  meets  him  by  appointment.  If  she  was  any  one 
living  in  town,  I  think  I  might  trace  her  out ;  don't  you  ?  " 

"  It  would  certainly  seem  so." 

"  Now,  you,  Mrs.  Chilgrove,  —  it  has  occurred  to  me,  —  are 
just  the  person  to  help  me  find  out  about  her." 

"I.?"  said  Mrs.  Chilgrove. 

"No  one  else!"  Mrs.  Fenway  declared,  very  positively. 
"  It  is  easy  for  him  to  deceive  my  dear  Marian  ;  she,  poor 
thing,  suspects  nothing.  But  he  can't  make  many  pretences 
of  business,  and  then  go  out  and  meet  that  creature,  almost 
under  your  eyes,  without  your  knowing  something  of  it,  now 
that  I  have  put  you  on  your  guard." 


276  farnell's  folly. 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  have  put  me  on  my  guard,"  said  Mrs. 
Chilgrove.  She  considered  a  moment,  then  added,  "  I  am 
not  sure  that  it  will  be  right  for  me  to  accept  a  situation  in 
his  house,  under  such  circumstances.  Excuse  me,  Mrs. 
Fenway;  but  I  must  have  some  regard  for  my  own  repu- 
tation." 

"True;  and  I  wouldn't  have  you  compromise  that  in  any 
way.  And  you  will  not.  It  is  not  a  matter  of  public  scandal 
I  speak  of,  and  I  hope  it  won't  be.  I  only  ask  that  you  will 
keep  watch  over  my  dear  Marian's  happiness,  and  assist  me 
in  a  good  work,  —  that  of  solving  a  mystery  which  is  almost 
driving  me  distracted." 

Mrs.  Chilgrove  smoothed  the  ruffled  plumes  of  her  alarmed 
mnocence,  and  inquired, — 

"  What  do  you  know  of  this  woman  ?  What  reason  have 
you  to  suspect  him  of  meeting  her  ?  " 

"  Suspect  him  !  "  echoed  Mrs.  Fenway.  "  Have  n't  I  seen 
them  together  with  my  own  eyes  ?  " 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Mrs.  Chilgrove,  "  Then  you  would  know 
her  if  you  were  to  see  her  again  'i  " 

"No,"  said  Mrs.  Fenway.  "That's  the  trouble.  It  was 
in  the  dark,  as  it  were.  You  remember,  when  you  were 
sewing  at  our  house,  before  Marian  was  married,  I  went  out 
one  evening  to  buy  some  braid.  I  went  farther,  and  paid 
Marian's  tuition  at  the  seminary.  I  had  taken  her  ke}',  and 
just  out  of  curiosity  I  looked  into  the  new  house  on  my  way 
back.  Now  I  would  n't  have  him  know  it  for  the  world  ;  for 
he  hasn't  the  least  idea  I  ever  saw  the  inside  of  that  house 
till  he  took  me  and  Marian  up  there  the  next  day." 

Mrs.  Chilgrove  listened  intently,  her  features  quite  pale 
again.  Mrs.  Fenway  looked  carefully  at  the  doors,  then 
drew  her  chair  close  to  the  visitor's,  and  proceeded  in  a 
whisper. 

"While  I  was  there,  —  it  was  just  about  dark, — in  came 


MRS.    CHILGROVE    IS    TAKEN    INTO    CONFIDENCE.       2// 

Mr.  Daskill  with  a  lady,  and  talked  with  her  a  long  while  in 
the  conservator}',  while  I  was  hid  in  the  entry,  about  as 
frightened  and  bewildered  a  creature  as  you  or  anybody  ever 
saw.  I  could  n't  overhear  much  that  was  said ;  only  she 
talked  of  exposing  him  for  some  wickedness  in  the  past,  and 
he  seemed  trying  to  conciliate  her."  Mrs.  Fenway  did  not 
think  it  necessary  to  enter  particularly  into  all  she  overheard. 
"  Then  they  went  up-stairs,  —  brushed  right  past  me  by  the 
parlor  door,  so  near  I  could  have  grabbed  her,  and  I  've 
sometimes  wished  I  had.  I  did  come  within  one  of  seeing 
her,  when  he  lit  a  match  on  the  upper  landing;  but  she  had 
just  stepped  around  the  banisters,  and  I  missed  the  chance. 
A  narrow  escape  for  her,  was  n't  it  ?  " 

"Very  narrow,"  said  the  tranquil  listener, 

"Well,  that  is  the  only  time  /ever  saw  her,  and  I  was 
beginning  to  hope  the  intrigue  or  trouble,  whatever  it  might 
be,  was  all  over.  But,  will  you  believe  it }  only  yesterday 
afternoon  he  met  that  creature  again." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  " 

*'  I  've  no  doubt  of  it.  Marian  was  here,  and  I  had  invited 
Mr.  Daskill  to  tea.  Well,  we  waited  and  waited,  and  he 
didn't  come;  till  finally,  after  we  had  got  out  of  all  manner 
of  patience,  in  he  walks,  gay  as  a  bluebird,  and  tells  the 
most  plausible  story  you  ever  heard  about  having  been  over 
to  look  at  Mr.  Thumwell's  wool.  Then  he  talked  of  other 
things,  and  I  forgot  all  about  his  explanation,  till  this  morn- 
ing I  noticed  that  Nance's  dress  was  badly  torn,  and  called 
her  to  an  account.  She  didn't  know  anything  about  it  at 
first,  but  I  shook  up  her  memory,  and  then  she  told  me  a 
story  which  I  couldn't  help  laughing  at  till  she  came  to  the 
important  part  of  it,  which  was  the  true  explanation  of  Mr. 
Daskill's  coming  late  to  tea. 

"You  see,"  continued  Mrs.  Fenway,  "we  keep  our  cows 
this  season  over  in  the  back  pasture,  and  last  night,  Frank 


278  farnell's  folly. 

being  away,  I  sent  Nance  to  fetch  'em.  She  can  be  as  smart 
as  any  girl  you  ever  saw,  when  she  takes  a  notion ;  but  she 's 
full  of  her  pranks,  and  last  evening  she  took  it  into  her  head 
she  would  ride  home.  There  was  nothing  else  to  ride  but 
one  of  the  cows;  so  she  singled  out  old  Brin,  coaxed  her  up 
to  a  stone  heap  with  a  nubbin  of  corn,  and  mounted  her, 
boy-fashion,  bare-back.  Old  Brin  wears  the  bell,  and  I  sup- 
pose Nance  thought,  if  she  couldn't  manage  to  drive  the 
other  cattle,  they  would  follow.  But  things  did  n't  work  just 
as  she  expected.  Old  Brin  never  had  anybody  on  her  back 
before,  and  did  n't  know  what  to  make  of  it.  Off  she  started, 
but  instead  of  coming  to  the  bars  which  Nance  had  let  down, 
she  made  for  the  woods,  where  the  cows  rush  through  the 
bushes  in  fly-time  to  brush  off  the  insects.  Maybe  she 
thought  she  had  a  wonderfully  big  fly  on  her  back.  I  can 
see  them  now"  (Mrs.  Fenway  had  to  smile  at  the  picture 
which  came  vividly  to  her  mind),  "Nance  giggling,  and 
holding  on  with  hands  and  heels,  old  cow  cantering,  cow-bell 
rattling,  then  the  plunge  into  the  brush.  But  Nance  is  nimble 
as  a  monkey,  and  she  managed  to  stick  on,  through  thick  and 
thin,  till  they  came  to  the  creek.  There  were  more  thickets 
on  the  other  side;  she  had  been  scratched  and  bruised 
enough  for  once,  and  as  there  was  no  stopping  old  Brin,  she 
concluded  she  had  better  tumble  off.  She  tumbled  off  at  the 
wrong  time,  and  went  head  over  heels,  casplash,  into  the 
water." 

Mrs.  Fenway  was  serious  again,  as  she  continued,  — 
"When  she  got  out  and  crawled  up  the  bank,  she  looked 
for  the  cow,  and  saw  no  cow  at  all,  but  two  persons  near  a 
log,  where  I  suppose  they  had  been  sitting  when  the  sound  of 
the  cow-bell,  the  rush  through  the  bushes,  and  the  splash  in 
the  water  interrupted  their  confab.  I  have  no  doubt  of  their 
being  the  very  same  persons  I  saw  that  night  in  the  new  house. 
One  was  Mr.  Daskill,  at  any  rate.     The  other  was  a  woman ; 


MRS.    CHILGROVE    IS    TAKEN    INTO    CONFIDENCE.       279 

but  she  immediately  slipped  out  of  sight  in  the  thicket.  A 
might)-  cosey  place  it  was  for  their  meeting,  so  out  of  the  way 
I  don't  suppose  any  one  goes  there  from  one  year's  end  to 
another,  unless  bent  on  some  mischief,  or  carried  in  spite  of 
them  by  a  rvmaway  cow.  Nance  was  wet  as  she  could  be, 
and  I  guess  a  good  deal  frightened  as  well  as  hurt.  Besides, 
it  was  growing  dark  in  the  woods  by  that  time.  She  had  only 
a  glimpse  of  the  woman,  and  could  n't  even  tell  what  sort  of 
a  dress  she  had  on  ;  only  she  thinks  it  was  a  dark -colored  one. 
But  dark  dresses  are  very  common.     I  wear  one  ;  so  do  you." 

"  They  are  very  common,"  assented  Mrs.  Chilgrove. 

"  But  woman  there  was,  she  is  sure,  though  Mr.  Daskill 
tried  to  lie  her  out  of  it.  He  walked  right  up  to  her,  and 
asked  how  she  came  there,  —  mighty  stern  with  her  at  first. 

" '  I  rode  the  cow,'  says  she  ;  *  and  I  've  got  to  find  that  cow 
now  ! ' 

" '  She  ran  in  among  these  young  pines,'  says  he.  '  You 
saw  her  yourself,  did  n"t  you  ? ' 

" '  I  did  n't  see  no  cow  ;  I  seen  a  woman,'  says  Nance. 

"'A  woman?  You  did  n't  see  any  woman!'  says  he. 
'  Who  did  you  think  it  was  ? ' 

"'I  couldn't  make  out,'  says  she;  'but  'twas  a  woman, 
anyhow.' 

"  'What ! '  says  he,  so  sharp  she  was  beginning  to  think  she 
had  better  be  convinced,  'you  think  I  don't  know,  when  I  was 
walking  along  here  by  the  brook  and  saw  it  all .''  Be  careful 
how  you  contradict  a  gentleman.  You  had  been  hurt  by  your 
tumble,'  says  he.  'You  must  have  hit  your  head  against  a 
stone.  There!  don't  cr)^  about  it!'  and  he  began  to  coax 
her.  '  I  'm  not  scolding  you  ;  only  I  want  you  to  learn  to 
stick  to  the  truth.     Do  you  really  think  you  saw  a  woman?' 

"'No,'  says  Nance,  'I  guess  it  must  have  been  the  cow.' 

_"  '  That 's  right ;  you  're  a  sensible  girl,'  says  he  ;  '  and  here  's 
some  money  for  you  to  buy  candy  with.     Don't  be  so  foolish 


28o  farnell's  folly. 

again  as  to  fancy  you  saw  a  woman,  and  I  '11  give  you  some 
more  some  time.' 

"  '  But  old  Erin  must  have  gone  t'  other  way ;  I  hear  the 
bell  way  down  the  creek,'  says  Nance. 

" '  She  went  through  the  thicket,  and  then  started  for  home,' 
says  he.  '  Come,  I  '11  go  along  with  you, —  I  'm  on  my  way 
to  ]\Ir.  Fenway's.  We  won't  say  anything  about  your  riding 
the  cow,  or  fancying  you  saw  a  woman  when  your  head  was 
dizzy.' 

"  Nance  would  have  been  glad  enough  not  to  mention  the 
ride  on  old  Brin ;  and  would  have  bought  her  candy,  and  held 
her  tongue,  and  perhaps  imagined  after  all  she  did  n't  see  a 
woman,  if  I  had  n't  noticed  her  torn  clothes.  She  kept  so 
shy  of  me  last  night  I  didn't  know  she  came  home  wet;  but 
this  morning  I  caught  her,  and  drew  one  thing  and  another 
out  of  her,  till  we  got  to  Mr.  Daskill  and  the  woman.  I  was 
dreadfully  excited,  as  you  may  believe,  but  I  made  her  think 
all  I  wanted  to  know  was  why  Mr.  Daskill  came  late  to  tea. 
Then  as  soon  as  I  got  ever}'thing  out  of  her  I  could,  I  put  on 
my  bonnet,  and  went  straight  over  across  lots  to  Mr.  Thum- 
well's,  made  an  errand  to  ask  about  Mrs.  Thumwell's  new 
patent  egg-beater  before  I  bought  one,  and  managed  in  the 
course  of  conversation  to  ask  if  they  had  sold  their  wool. 

"'No,'  says  she,  'he  can't  find  anybody  to  pay  him  his 
price  yet.' 

"'  I  hear  Mr.  Daskill  has  been  here  to  look  at  it,'  says  I. 

"'You're  mistaken  about  that,'  says  she.  'Mr.  Daskill 
has  never  been  near  it,  though  he  has  promised  to  come. 
It's  stored  in  the  garret,  and  as  nice  a  lot  it  is  as  ever  you 
saw.'  She  invited  me  to  step  up  and  look  at  it ;  but  I  did  n't 
take  much  interest  after  that,  —  only  in  the  wool  he  had  been 
trying  to  pull  over  my  eyes!  Now,  if  you  were  in  my  place, 
would  you  have  any  doubt  about  there  having  been  a  woman 
with  him  there  in  the  woods  ?  " 


MRS.    CHILGROVE    JS    TAKEN    INTO    CONFIDENCE.       28 1 

"  None  whatever,  INIrs.  Fenway." 

"And  don't  you  think  it  very,  ver}'-  extraordinaty  ?  " 

"It  is,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Chilgrove.  "The  more  so,  be- 
cause one  cannot  conceive  of  a  man,  just  married  to  a  beau- 
tiful girl  like  your  daughter,  being  drawn  away  from  her  by 
any  woman  whatever." 

"  I  don't  really  suppose  he  cares  for  anybody  else.  It  is 
probably  some  evil  power  this  creature  has  over  him.  Oh  !  " 
said  Mrs. Fenway,  "  shouldn't  you  think  she  would  have  some 
pity  on  a  poor,  innocent  child  like  Marian,  whatever  may  be 
her  feeling  with  regard  to  him.-"' 

"  If  she  only  knew^  your  daughter,  I  am  sure  she  would." 

"  It  is  making  him  unhappy.  He  is  very  gloomy  at  times. 
Marian  thinks  it  is  on  account  of  his  son,  but  /  believe  this 
horrid  mystery  is  at  the  bottom  of  it.  Now,  since  you  are  to 
be  in  the  family,  you  can't  help  seeing  much  that  is  going  on. 
So  I  have  thought  it  best  to  tell  you  something,  and  secure 
your  aid  and  s^Tnpathy,  —  a  mother  so,  I  am  anxious  for  my 
daughter's  happiness  ! " 

"  I  enter  into  your  feelings  fully,"  said  Mrs.  Chilgrove, 
"and  I  thank  you  for  your  confidence.  It  will  save  me  so 
much  !  I  shall  now  know  just  what  to  do.  You  may  rest  as- 
sured that  I  will  not  let  anything  pass  unnoticed  which  may 
concern  Mrs.  Daskill's  happiness,  or  which  I  think  her  mother 
ought  to  know." 

After  this  pretty  little  speech,  and  some  mutual  protesta- 
tions of  faithful  friendship,  these  two  amiable  creatures  kissed 
each  other  and  parted. 


282  farnell's  folly. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

THE    FORTUNES    OF    BUBBLING    RUN. 

The  day  before  the  Carolus  note  fell  due,  Adolphus  called 
on  Mr.  Fenway  at  the  fork  factory,  and  said  to  him  in  his 
large,  liberal,  open  way, — 

"Are  you  going  to  want  that  money  to-morrow?" 

"  I  shall  want  it  if  Mr.  Carolus  does,"  replied  Mr.  Fenway, 

**  I  can  pay  it  now  if  you  like,"  said  Adolphus,  "  or  I  can 
find  use  for  it  awhile  longer.  I  am  buying  more  wheat  just 
now  than  at  any  time  during  the  season ;  farmers  who  have 
been  holding  back  for  higher  prices  are  rushing  in  their  grain, 
and  I  pay  cash  for  every  bushel." 

"  Well,  if  Carolus  don't  trouble  me,  I  won't  trouble  you," 
said  Miles. 

And  there  the  matter  rested.  Carolus  was  in  no  haste  to 
collect  a  debt  of  the  thriving  fork-maker ;  and  Mr.  Fenway 
felt  easy  in  his  mind  on  the  subject,  believing  that  his  son-in- 
law's  business  was  flourishing. 

The  oil  speculation,  too,  promised  well.  A  company  had 
been  organized,  officers  elected,  and  the  stocks  put  upon  the 
market.  President,  Hon.  Josiah  Gookin,  M.  C, —  a  sounding 
name,  to  give  respectability  to  the  enterprise.  Vice-president, 
Miles  Fenway,  —  a  selection  equally  well  calculated  to  inspire 
stock-buyers  with  confidence.  Secretary  and  treasurer,  A. 
Daskill.  Superintendent,  Marshall  Narabone,  —  Daskill's 
uncle,  and  getter-up  of  the  company.  These  and  two  other 
gentlemen  were  directors;  capital  stock,  $125,000;  1,250 
shares,  $100  each. 


THE    FORTUNES    OF    BUBBLING    RUN,  283 

Miles  remonstrated  with  his  son-in-law  against  the  use  of 
his  name, 

"Why,"  said  he,  "I  am  not  ev^n  a  stockholder." 

"Don't  be  so  sure  of  that,"  replied  Adolphus.  "There's 
stock  credited  to  you,  as  I  promised  you  there  should  be.  If 
you  don't  choose  to  keep  it,  I  know  of  somebody  w'ho '11  be 
glad  at  any  time  to  take  it  off  your  hands." 

"  But  I  can't  attend  the  directors'  meetings,  or  give  any 
other  time  to  the  business." 

"  You  need  n't.  But  you  must  let  your  name  stand.  I  told 
VDU  here  was  a  chance  to  make  a  fortune  with  your  hands 
in  your  pockets,  —  you  remember?  Well,  we  have  already 
sold  nearly  stock  enough  to  pay  for  the  entire  propert}',  which 
is  better  than  I  predicted.  You  will  not  be  called  upon  for 
a  dollar  to  make  the  final  paj-ments ;  and  you  can  be  known 
as  an  officer  of  the  company  with  even  less  trouble  to 
yourself." 

And  now  came  out  a  neat  little  pamphlet,  describing  the 
property  and  setting  forth  the  advantages  of  investing  money 
in  the  slocks  of  the  Bubbling  Run  Oil  Company,  copies  of 
which  were  freely  distributed  in  Waybrook.  It  was  read  in 
every  house,  and  talked  of  wherever  two  or  three  citizens 
v/ere  gathered  together.  Its  statements,  which  had  all  the 
dazzling  splendors  of  romance,  were  fully  confirmed  by  mat- 
ter-of-fact Deacon  Tibbetts  and  Mr.  Solomon  Tompkins,  who, 
taken  out  by  Mr.  Daskill  to  visit  the  scene  of  operations,  had 
been  munificently  entertained  (and  privately  favored  in  the 
acquisition  of  stock),  and  had  come  home  full  of  contagious 
enthusiasm. 

Mrs.  Fenway  was  once  more  well  pleased  with  her  son-in- 
law  ;  hearing  not  only  these  good  things  about  the  Bubbling 
Run  business,  but  also  favorable  reports  (from  her  friend, 
'Mrs.  Chilgrove,  now  in  the  family)  regarding  his  private  and 
domestic  affairs. 


284  farnell's  folly. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Fenway,"  she  said  triumphantly,  "  I  hope  you 
will  give  a  little  more  heed  to  my  advice  after  this!"  And 
she  insisted  that  he  was  and  should  be  not  only  a  stock- 
holder, but  an  officer  of  the  company. 

"  Of  course  he  will  let  his  name  stand  !  "  she  said  to  Mr. 
Daskill. 

And  easy-natured  Miles,  tired  of  her  importunity,  had  at 
last  said,  "  Well,  I  don't  know  that  it  will  do  me  any  harm," 
never  suspecting  that  it  might  harm  anybody  else. 

Mrs.  Fenway  had  told  privately  a  good  many  people  that 
her  husband  was  very  largely  interested  in  the  Bubbling  Run, 
which  assurance,  taken  together  with  the  prominence  of  his 
name,  first  led  many  to  think  of  investing  in  the  company's 
stock.  The  shares,  which  had  been  selling  as  low  as  fifty 
dollars  to  first  purchasers,  soon  vose  to  fift}'-five,  —  a  circum- 
stance which  greatly  increased  the  excitement. 

"  They  '11  be  at  par  in  four  months,"  Mr.  Daskill  confi- 
dently declared;  ard  in  a  few  days  announced  that  no  more 
could  be  sold  for  less  than  sixt}^ 

"What  ye  think  now,  mammy?"  said  little  Wetherspun, 
hurrying  home  with  the  news. 

Mrs.  Wetherspun,  who  was  about  setting  the  dinner-table, 
showed  what  she  thought  by  dropping  down  in  a  chair,  with  a 
look  of  dismay. 

"  Deacon  brags  he  's  made  two  hundred  dollars  without 
turning  his  hand  over." 

"  How  so  ?  fer  land's  sake  !  " 

"  Bought  twenty  sh^ires  at  fifty  ;  can  sell  to-day  for  sixty," 
said  the  cheerful  Wetherspun,  tipping  back  in  his  chair,  with 
his  feet  on  the  round. 

"I  want  to  know  now  if  that's  so  !  "  Mrs.  Wetherspun  ex- 
claimed, with  her  most  dreadful  scowl,  as  if  she  had  suffered 
a  personal  injury  from  the  rise  of  stocks  in  which  she  was  not 
interested. 


THE    FORTUNES    OF    BUBBLING    RUN.  285 

"  Showed  me  his  sheers ;  printed  on  handsome  paper,  I 
tell  ye  !  witli  a  pictur'  of  a  derrick  and  a  steam-engine.  Made 
my  mouth  water  !  " 

"  Deacon  's  one  o'  them  kind  that 's  alluz  forever  blunderin' 
into  some  sich  luck,"  said  Mrs.  Wetherspun,  disdainfully,  "  I 
can  remember  when  the  family  did  n't  own  a  brass  kittle. 
Two  hundred  !" 

And  she  expressed  her  dissatisfaction  by  the  manner  in 
which  she  proceeded  to  set  the  little  square  pine  table,  where 
it  stood  against  the  wall,  putting  on  two  ancient  blue-edged 
plates,  two  ancient  blue-edged  cups  and  saucers,  two  knives 
and  two  forks  (everything  went  in  pairs  in  the  ark  of  that 
prudent  couple's  housekeeping)  in  a  rattling  and  lively 
fashion. 

"  You  should  hear  Ward  Farnell  talk  about  it !  "  said  her 
husband.  "  He  was  going  into  this  very  thing,  only  Daskill 
and  Fenway  got  the  start  of  him  ;  he  knew  there  was  fortunes 
to  be  made  out  on  't.  He  sets  round  in  the  store  and  bar- 
room, and  brags  about  it  all  day." 

"  He  'd  better  be  'arnin'  somethln'  to  pay  his  honest  debts 
with,"  said  Mrs.  Wetherspun,  spitefully.  "  Two  hundred  !  If 
it  don't  beat  ever}-thing!     Why  could  n't  we?  " 

"  Nothin'  resk,  nothin'  have  ;  and  you  was  opposed  to  our 
runnin'  any  resk." 

"  Why,  no  !  Jest  as  soon  as  I  see  Mr.  Fenway's  name  on 
as  vice-president,  I  made  up  my  mind;  for  he  's  a  man  ever)-- 
body  respects,  whatever  they  may  think  of  Mis'  Fenway, 
i^^  would  n't  be  in  the  ile  'thout  'twas  a  good  thing.  But 
you  're  so  plaguy  cautious  !  ye  know  ye  be." 

"Cautious?"  repeated  little  Wetherspun.  "I  mos'  gen- 
er'ly  look  'fore  I  leap,  T  allow.  But  I  never  heerd  ye  say 
afore  you  thought  I  was  any  too  cautious  ;  an'  ye  would  n't 
now,  if  our  neighbors  had  n't  happened  to  be  in  luck  and  we 
not.     If  I  'd  ben  for  buyin',  and  we  'd  lost  a  cent,  then  I  "d 


286  farnell's  folly, 

a  ben  the  carelessest  man  in  the  world.  I  did  say,  if  I  was 
sure  the  sheers  'u'd  go  up,  I  "d  pitch  in  ;  but  you  said,  'Time 
enough  !  time  enough  ! '  Then  they  went  up  five,  and  you 
was  sorry  enough  we  hadn't  bought  at  fifty.  But  you  would  n't 
buy  then,  anyway,  you  said,  and  lose  five.     Now  they  're  sixty." 

"  Ye  need  n't  fling  that  in  my  face  ag'in  !  "  said  Mrs.  Weth- 
erspun,  putting  the  pork  and  potatoes  on  the  table.  "  Come  ! 
le's  eat." 

Chipper  little  Wetherspun  drew  up  his  chair,  said  grace  in 
a  low,  quick  tone,  and  then  raised  his  voice,  as  he  lifted  his 
face  from  his  plate,  — 

*'  Bob  Syles  bought  five  sheers  at  fifty-five,  and  now  he  's 
crowin'  all  over  town  about  how  he  's  made  twenty-five  dollars 
easier  'n  tradin"  bosses." 

"  That  wuthless  Bob  Syles  !  But  money  won't  do  /;/;«  no 
good,"  said  Mrs.  Wetherspun,  as  if  there  was  comfort  in  that 
reflection. 

"Deacon  's  goin'  to  buy  more  ;  says  sheers  '11  be  at  seventy 
or  seventy-five  in  a  week." 

Mrs.  Wetherspun  held  the  little  black  earthen  teapot  over 
a  cup,  forgetting  to  pour  the  tea. 

"  Did  he  say  that  ?  Ncv,-,  why  don't  ye  go  right  over  and 
talk  with  Mr,  Fenway  1  " 

"  I  've  tried  that ;  but  ye  might  as  well  try  to  git  blood  out 
of  a  whetstun  ;  says  he  don'  know  no  more  "bout  Bubbling 
Run  'n  I  do." 

"That's  jest  like  Miles  Fenway!  so  non-committal.  I 
wish  I  was  n't  mad  with  Mis'  Fenway  ;  I  'd  go  an'  talk  with 
her.  But  I  hain't  forgot  them  pair  o'  stockin's  an'  the  way 
she  treated  me  yit." 

"  I  would  n't  bite  off  my  nose  to  spite  my  face,"  said  Weth- 
erspun. "You  jest  go  over  and  say  Bubbliii'  Run  to  her,  if 
ye  want  to  make  her  good-natered.  Wintergreen  gals  say 
she  's  full  on 't.     They  talk  of  buyin'  in,  —  'd  I  tell  ye  ?  " 


THE    FORTUNES    OF    BUBBLING    RUN.  287 

"  No  !  land's  sake!  why,  evenbocly  's  buyin'  !  "  Mrs.  Weth- 
erspun  exclaimed,  in  perfect  consternation.  '•  I  '11  go  right 
over  and  see  'em  this  very  arternoon  !  " 

The  dinner  eaten  and  the  dishes  washed,  Mrs.  Wetherspun 
went  accordingly,  and  astonished  her  husband  by  returning 
in  much  less  time  than  ever  before,  to  his  knowledge,  from 
the  house  of  a  neighbor  at  all  inclined  to  be  sociable. 

"Wull,  what  —  wha'  d'  ye  make  out,  mammy?"  said  he, 
starting  up  from  a  nap,  and  rubbing  his  little  black  eyes 
open. 

"ThemWintergreen  gals,"  she  replied  breathlessly,  "they've 
been  an'  gone  an'  bought  'em  a  sheer  apiece  !  and  they  're 
jest  as  chirk  over  it  as  they  can  be.  They  was  surprised  as 
could  be,  when  I  told  'em  we  had  n't  bought.  Mis'  Fenway 
was  down  to  see  Lottie,  an'  they  had  her  in  to  talk  with  me  ; 
an' she  doos  tell  the  greatest  story!  She  says  it  "s  only  an 
accommodation  to  Mr.  Daskill's  friends  't  any  sheers  are  sold 
now  less 'n  par;  an'  she  doubts  if  any  more  can  be  had  now 
for  sixty,  but  she  '11  see  him  an'  inquire.  If  they  should  go  up 
I  should  feel  so  worked  !  " 

"  Without  we  buy  fust;  then  I  guess  neither  on  us  would  n't 
object  to  their  goin'  up,"  chuckled  Wetherspun. 

"  I  never  was  so  up  a  stump  in  all  my  life  !  "  said  his  wife. 

"  There  's  that  four  hundred  in  the  bank,"  he  suggested. 

"But,  daddy,  ye  wouldn't  think  o'  puttin'  in  so  much  as 
that !  "  said  she,  sure  to  hold  back  as  he  advanced. 

"  I  hain't  said  I  thought  o'  puttin'  any  in,"  he  replied, 
unwilling  to  assume  the  responsibility. 

"If  you  hain't,  who  has?"  she  retorted,  equally  unwill- 
ing to  forfeit  her  privilege  of  casting  all  blame  on  him  in 
the  future,  in  case  they  should  make  an  unfortunate  invest- 
ment. 

Mrs.  Fenway  came  in  at  this  juncture  to  say,  —  No,  thank 
ye,  she  would  n't  take  a  chair,  she  was  in  a  great  hurry,  — 


288  farnell's  folly. 

merely  to  say  (sitting  down,  nevertheless)  that  she  had  run 
into  the  store  to  speak  with  Mr.  Daskill,  who  said  news  had 
just  came  that  decided  him  not  to  sell  any  more  short  of 
sixty-five. 

The  Wetherspuns  exchanged  looks  of  dismay. 

"Jest  as  my  husband  had  made  up  his  mind  to  buy  !  It  's 
jest  our  luck,  Mis'  Fenway  !  " 

"  But  he  said,  if  /  had  any  particular  friends  that  had  been 
preparing  to  purchase,  expecting  to  get  their  stocks  low,  and 
if  'twas  any  favor  to  me,  he  'd  see  that  they  shouldn't  be  dis- 
appointed. I  spoke  of  you ;  and  I  said  it  would  be  a  very 
great  favor  to  me,  —  for  you  are  very  particular  friends  of 
mine,  —  if  you  could  have  as  good  a  chance  as  anybody. 
Now,  between  you  and  me  and  the  side  of  the  house, — you 
are  not  to  let  anybody  know  it  for  the  world,  —  he  says  if 
you  '11  decide  at  once  how  many  shares  you  want,  vou  shall 
have  'em  at  first  cost,  which  is  fifty  dollars  a  share." 

"I'm  beat  if  I  expected  that!"  said  little  Wetherspun, 
winking  delightedly. 

"I'm  sure  you're  very  kind!"  added  Mrs.  Wetherspun; 
saying,  in  her  heart,  "I  didn't  quite  throw  them  stockin's 
away,  arter  all." 

"You  must  let  Mr.  Daskill  know  this  afternoon.  And 
remember!  "  said  Mrs.  Fenway,  "you  are  not  to  tell  a  living 
soul  what  you  pay." 

"  Wull,  then,  I  s'pose  I  won't,"  said  Wetherspun.  "  But 
it  does  seem  too  good  to  keep,  if  we  're  buyin'  as  low  as  any 
on  'em  ;  an'  I  shall  be  tempted  to  grin,  when  I  hear  the 
deacon  makin'  his  brags." 

"  Ye  better  see  to  glttin  yer  chickens,  'fore  ye  spend  much 
time  crowin' over  'em,"  said  Mrs.  Wetherspun.  "  And  take 
yer  bank-book  along  ;  and  be  quick,  or  the  bank  '11  be  closed." 

Exit  Wetherspun,  clutching  the  bank-book,  with  his  hat  on 
the  back  of  his  head. 


THE  FORTUNES  OF  BUBBLING  RUN,        289 

"Mr.  Carolus  came  in  to  collect  his  rent  of  the  old  maids 
just  after  you  left,"  said  Mrs.  Fenway, 

"Oh!  did  he?"  replied  Mrs.  Wetherspun  absently,  her 
heart  having  gone  with  her  husband  and  the  bank-book. 

"Yes.  And  ain't  he^  strange  man.?  He  says  he  don't 
think  much  of  the  Bubbling  Run  speculation." 

"  Doos  he  I  "  Mrs.  Wetherspun's  heart  came  back  to  her 
bosom  with  an  anxious  thump.     "  Why  not  .-*  " 

"  '  All  a  humbug,  —  all  an  infernal  hum  !  '  says  he. 
'  Never  knowed  so  much  noise  made  about  a  thing  that  was  n't 
a  hum.  You  're  wise  virgins,  wise  virgins,'  says  he,  in  his 
horrible  sarcastic  way  to  the  old  maids.  'Thought  you'd 
have  ile  in  your  lamps,  did  ye  ?  Guess  ye  will,  when  yotir 
bridegroom  comes,  hi,  hi,  hi!'  And  he  laughed  till  I  thought 
his  old  bones  would  shake  to  pieces.  Positively  blasphemous, 
was  n't  it.''  " 

"  It  was,"  said  Mrs.  Wetherspun  absently  again,  her  heart 
having  gone  once  more  in  full  chase,  and  in  great  alarm  this 
time,  after  the  bank-book. 

"For  my  part,"  Mrs.  Fenway  proceeded,  "I  am  surprised 
to  find  the  old  man  knows  so  much  Scripture.  To  hear  him 
talk  of  the  Bible  !  '  'Twas  a  good  book  in  its  day,  no  doubt, 
a  good  book  in  its  day.  But  that  was  a  long  while  ago.  You 
want  to  know  what  the  real,  modern  Bible  is?  It's  the 
ledger,  it 's  the  ledger,'  says  he. 

"  'Why,  Mr.  Carolus,'  says  I,  'how  do  you  make  that  out?' 

"*  By  their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them,'  says  he.  'That's 
in  your  Scriptur',  ain't  it  ?  and  very  good  Scriptur'  it  is.  Now, 
people  pretend  to  live  by  the  Bible,  —  pretend,'  says  he. 
'They  put  it  in  handsome  bindings,  and  carry  it  to  meeting, 
and  read  it  for  prayers,  and  pay  it  a  compliment,  whenever 
they  speak  on  't  :  "  The  Bible  !  "  they  say,  drawing  down 
their  faces  and  looking  solemn.  But  what  do  they  care  for 
it?'    says  he.     'Do  they  do  as  they'd  be  done   by?     Love 

19 


290  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

their  neighbors  as  themselves?  Love  their  neighbors  mighty 
well,  some  of  'em  would,  in  that  case  !  When  they  get  a  slap 
on  one  cheek,  do  they  turn  t'  other  ?  Do  you,  Mrs.  Fenway  ? ' 
says  he  ,  and  I  was  obliged  to  own  I  wasn't  in  the  habit  of 
doing  it  very  often.  '  No,  nor  nobody  ain't  in  the  habit  on  't,' 
says  he.  '  So  much  for  living  by  the  Bible,  Mrs.  Fenway. 
Now  for  living  by  the  ledger.  Bible  's  a  dead  book  ;  ledger's 
a  live  book.  A  man's  heart 's  in  his  business,  in  his  accounts, 
in  making  all  the  money  he  can,  in  all  sorts  of  ways.  Look 
at  this  man,  and  that  man.'  He  named  over  about  a  dozen 
of  our  prominent  church-members  ;  and  I  had  to  confess  every 
one  of  'em  seemed  to  be  pursuing  their  worldly  interest  a  good 
deal  more  earnestly  than  they  did  their  heavenly,  and  to 
think  enough  sight  more  of  it  than  of  their  neighbor's  inter- 
est, any  way.  '  The  law  and  the  prophets  they  believe  in,' 
says  he,  '  is  the  law  on  their  side,  and  the  profits  too,  in  all 
business  transactions.  They  don't  care  a  tinker's  dam,  not 
one  of  'em,  for  the  law  of  Moses,  or  the  prophets,  Isaiah, 
Jeremiah,  Hezekiah,  and  your  other  iahs.  By  their  fruits  ye 
shall  know  them,  Mrs.  Fenway,'  says  he.  And  though  it  was 
perfectly  shocking,  I  must  confess  it  set  me  thinking,  and  I 
remarked  to  myself,  '  We  might  many  of  us  take  warning 
from  this  man,  when  we  see  him  living  out  openly  and  boast- 
fully the  selfish  principles  we  are  too  apt  to  live  secretly, 
often  deceiving  ourselves.' "  Which  was  certainly  an  edify- 
ing sentiment,  coming  from  Mrs.  Fenway  on  this  particular 
occasion.  "  Don't  you  think  so.  Sister  Wetherspun  "i  "  And 
Sister  Fenway  put  on  her  most  decorous  prayer-meeting 
look. 

"I  don't  know  but  it  is  —  about  the  —  you  was  talkin' 
about  the  ile,"  said  Sister  Wetherspun,  having  heard  scarcely 
a  word  since  her  visitor  branched  off  from  that  theme,  —  a 
fact  which  might  have  taught  old  Carolus  where  Iter  heart 
was.     "  What  else  did  he  say  ?  " 


THE    FORTUNES    OF    BUBBLING    RUN.  29I 

"He  had  it  over,  '  Wise  virgins  !  tlirow  your  money  away 
on  a  humbug,  and  then  complain  of  my  raising  your  rent!' 
But  we  all  know  Mr.  Carolus  !  "  said  Mrs.  Fenway. 

"  Did  he  say  throw  aivay  their  money  ? "  asked  Mrs. 
Wetherspun,  turning  pale. 

"  What !  you  ain't  frightened  at  anything  he  said,  are  you  ? 
The  idea  !  " 

"  I  should  think  a  good  deal  of  his  opinion  in  a  business 
matter." 

"  I  should  n't.  Did  n't  he  always  maintain  that  my  husband 
would  fail  in  the  fork  factory  ?  " 

''Wal,  he  did  make  a  mistake  there.  But  what  did  he  say 
agin"  the  Bubblin'  Run  .?  " 

"  Oh,  that  it's  all  fine  to  start  with,  but  soon  we  shall  begin 
to  be  assessed  for  the  expenses  of  boring,  and  have  to  keep 
paying  out  money  or  lose  our  stock,  and  the  shares  that  went 
up  like  a  rocket  will  come  down  like  a  stick  !  " 

"  My  1  how  you  talk  I  Do  you  mean  to  say  —  " 

"No, /don't:  but  that's  what  he  said  —  so  absurd!  We 
are  raising  capital  enough  now  to  meet  all  expenses,"  added 
Mrs.  Fenway,  with  a  swell  of  importance  on  the  little  pro- 
noun which  identified  her  with  the  B.  R.  O.  Co.'s  speculation. 

"But  didn't  he  think  we  was  ever  goin'  to  strike  ile  ? " 
Sister  W.  had  caught  the  pronoun. 

"  He  ?  Did  ye  ever  know  Mr.  Carolus  to  believe  in  any- 
thing he  couldn't  clutch  in  his  two  hands?  He  acknowl- 
edged fortunes  had  been  made  in  oil ;  '  but  it 's  all  chance,  all 
chance,  Mrs.  Fenway ! '  says  he,  and  knocked  his  stick  down 
on  the  old  maids'  floor  hard  enough  to  wake  a  dozen  babies 
in  the  next  room.  But  don't  ye  be  worried.  With  good  flow- 
ing wells  alongside  of  us,  we  are  warm,  we  are  decidedly 
warm,  as  the  children  say.  We  are  on  the  great  bed  of  that 
peculiar  kind  of  sand  rock  where  the  oil  is  always  found. 
Then  there  's  the  bubbling  on  the  banks  of  the  stream  — sure 


292  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

indications,"  added  Mrs.  Fenway  pompously,  "  that  we 
abound  in  gas  and  petroleum." 

She  offered  Mrs.  Wetherspun  a  phich  of  snuff,  and,  taking 
a  vigorous  little  pinch  herself,  exclaimed,  "  Mr.  Carolus, 
indeed  !  the  idea  !  "  and  departed. 

Then,  as  soon  as  she  was  gone,  Mrs.  Wetherspun  began  to 
think  over  what  Mr.  Carolus  had  said,  and  to  forget  what 
Mrs.  Fenway  had  said  to  confute  bun ;  growing  all  the  while 
more  and  more  alarmed  about  the  bank-book,  until  at  length 
she  saw  her  little  man  coming  with  it  in  his  hand,  and  with 
his  hat  still  on  the  back  of  his  head. 

"  Wal !  ■'  she  said  expectantly,  letting  him  into  the  house. 
The  sparkle  of  the  little  black  eyes  told  his  story.  "  Ye 
hain't  been  and  bought,  have  ye  ?  I  'd  no  idee  ye  was  goin' 
to  buy  to-day  !  " 

"  Then  what  did  ye  tell  me  to  take  the  bank-book  for  ?  " 
cried  little  Wetherspun. 

"Wal,  I  didn't  know  but  you'd  want  to  show  Mr.  Daskill 
we  had  money  to  buy  with,  if  we  should  conclude  to,  arter 
matewer  deliberation." 

"  Matewer  deliberation  !  What  a  woman  you  be  !  Had  n't 
we  concluded  .-* " 

"  It  seems  you  had,"  she  replied  grimly,  having  now  fixed 
the  responsibility  just  where  she  wanted  it.  "  So  no  matter 
for  me.     Kow  many  sheers  did  ye  take  ?  " 

"  Eight,  fifty  dollars  apiece  ;  took  all  the  bank  money  but  a 
little  interest." 

'•  Why  !  I  'd  no  idee  you  was  goin'  to  buy  so  much  !  " 

"  What !  when  we  had  a  chance  at  fifty  ?  If  you  're  sick, 
we  can  sell  out  now  and  make  a  penny.  I  had  an  offer  as  I 
was  comin'  out  of  the  store,  —  fifty-five  for  all  I  had." 

"  I  want  to  know !  did  ye } "  And  the  good  wife 
brightened. 

"Yis.     Dave   Sawney  axed  if  I'd  been  buyin,'  an'  I  kin' 


THE  FORTUNES  OF  BUBBLING  RUN.        293 

o'  laughed,  and  said,  '  Yis,  I  'm  one  of  the  foolish  ones.' 
'  You  air  foolish,'  says  he,  '  if  ye  paid  over  fifty-five.  I  "d  like 
to  buy,  but  dumbed  if  I  '11  give  more  'n  that.  How  many 
sheers  did  ye  lay  in  ? '  says  he  ;  an'  when  I  told  him,  he  said 
he  'd  like  to  take  'em  off  my  hands  at  fifty-five.  But  I 
laughed  ag'in,  for  I  felt  perty  nice,  I  tell  ye  ;  an'  I  said  I 
guessed  I  'd  consider  on  't  awhile  fust.  But  now  if  you 
think  's  best,  I  can  go  right  back  and  take  him  up  at  his 
offer." 

"  I  don't  say  I  think  's  best,"  replied  Mrs.  Wetherspun. 
"  If  they  're  wuth  fifty-five  to  him,  they  're  wuth  fifty-five  to 
us." 

Thus  the  Bubbling  Run  Oil  Company's  scheme  throve  in 
Waybrook. 


294  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 


MRS.    CHILGROVE    INSTALLED. 


Having  made  choice  of  a  companion,  Marian  had  in  like 
manner  decided  what  room  she  should  occupy.  True,  she 
had  consulted  her  husband  about  it ;  but  he  said,  "  Give  her 
any  room  you  please.     I  leave  this  matter  entirely  to  you." 

"The  little  chamber  next  to  my  dressing-room, — how 
would  that  do  ?  "  said  Marian. 

"Very  well.  Only  I  am  afraid  that  is  too  near.  To  tell 
the  truth,  I  am  beginning  to  be  a  trifle  jealous  of  your  new 
friend.  The  prospect  of  her  coming  has  brightened  you  up 
amazingly.  I  don't  want  to  be  left  out  in  the  cold,"  said 
Adolphus,  with  playful  fondness. 

"  You  know  there  is  no  danger  of  that  !  "  replied  Marian, 
rosy  and  radiant  in  the  light  of  his  smile.  "  It  is  your 
thoughlfulness,  your  goodness,  that  has  brightened  me,  and 
made  me  very  happy.  But  if  you  really  think  the  room  is 
too  near  —  " 

"  That  is  for  you  to  decide.  I  am  not  going  to  dictate. 
Still,  it  does  occur  to  me  that  it  might  not  be  convenient  to 
have  your  companion  always  within  sound  of  your  voice. 
There  will  be  times  when  you  will  wish  to  be  alone,  whatever 
you  may  think  now.  You  will  be  better  friends  if  you  can 
be  independent  of  each  other,  —  separate,  and  yet  within 
easy  reach.  You  must  remember,  besides,  that  you  are  the 
mistress,  and  not  be  on  too  familiar  terms  with  her." 

"  I  see  you  are  quite  right,"  said  Marian,  —  "  as  you  always 
are,  dear  Adolphus  !  " 


MRS.  CHILGROVE  INSTALLED.  295 

And  she  proceeded  to  suggest  other  rooms.  "  Oh,  yes ; 
that  will  do  very  well  "  was  his  comment  on  each.  But  then 
it  occurred  to  him,  one  was  too  small  ;  another  too  large  ; 
and  the  third  did  not  suit  the  lady's  complexion.  At  last  she 
timidly  suggested  the  chamber  adjoining  Clarence's. 

"Well,  that  is  retired;  and  it  is  one  of  the  pleasantest 
rooms  in  the  house,"  said  Adolphus. 

"  But —  "  Marian  was  herself  going  to  raise  an  objection 
here,  remembering  the  disturbance  Clarence  sometimes  made 
in  that  part  of  the  house.  She  checked  herself,  however,  in 
time  to  avoid  touching  on  that  delicate  ground.  "  I  was 
going  to  say,  —  but,  no,  dear ;  that  won't  be  too  far  off." 

"Besides,"  said  Adolphus,  "if  she  is  the  sort  of  woman  I 
take  her  for,  I  shall  hope  that  she  may  be  useful  to  Clarence. 
This  is  your  own  affair,  however.  Put  her  in  the  room  next 
to  yours,  after  all,  if  you  prefer  to."' 

Naturally,  she  did  not  prefer  to.  The  next  day  she  brought 
home  Mrs.  Chilgrove.  Marian  drove  the  mouse-colored 
horse  with  her  own  fair  hands  ;  and  proud  and  glad  and 
lo\-ely  was  she,  that  golden  October  afternoon.  The  pale, 
impenetrable  countenance  of  the  young  widow  served  to  set 
off  the  glow  of  the  bride's  more  girlish  beauty.  In  the  over- 
flow of  her  youthful  spirits,  Marian  did  not  know  that  she  did 
all  the  talking,  and  that  her  companion  sat  silent  by  her  side, 
pleasantly  smiling  at  everything,  indeed,  but  thinking  all  the 
while  her  own  deep  thoughts. 

The  weather  was  so  fine,  they  took  a  little  turn  about  the 
village  before  driving  home ;  showed  themselves  to  the 
delighted  Mrs.  Fenway  a  minute  at  her  door  ;  then,  "  We 
must  see  my  husband  just  a  moment,"  said  Marian  ;  and  away 
they  flew,  after  the  fleet  greyhound  of  a  horse,  whirling  up 
with  light,  twinkling  wheels  to  the  counting-room  steps.  Mr. 
Daskill  came  out  to  them. 

"  Adolphus,  you  remember  Mrs.  Chilgrove,"  said  Marian. 


296  farnell's  folly, 

"  Most  agreeably  !  "  And  off  went  the  merchant's  polite 
hat  to  the  coldly-nodding,  pale  widow.  "  I  would  ask  you  in, 
but  I  am  full  of  business." 

"  Oh,  we  can't  stop.  Come  early  to  tea,  won't  you,  dear? "' 
"  If  I  can  get  away.  Keep  a  tight  rein,  Marian !  " 
And  away  went  the  beautiful,  girlish  wife  again,  with  the 
much-experienced,  silent  woman  by  her  side.  A  strangely 
abstracted,  intense,  and  by  no  means  angelic,  expression 
darkened  his  face  as  he  gazed  after  them.  Was  he  crit- 
icising Marian's  style  of  driving  ?  She  never  could  learn  to 
keep  a  tight  rein. 

Yet  a  pretty  sight  it  was  :  little  gloved  hands  guiding  the 
even-paced,  mouse-colored  steed  ;  exquisitely  moulded  form 
jauntily  erect,  leaning  slightly  forwards  in  a  gracefully  alert 
attitude  ;  blond  curls  tossing  in  the  wind;  fresh,  joyous  coun- 
tenance beaming  with  smiles ;  the  other  form  reclined  indo- 
lently backwards,  with  cold,  quiet,  impassive  features  ;  the 
bright  shell  of  a  buggy  gliding  beneath  over-arched  elms, 
through  the  golden-barred  purple  light  of  the  October  after- 
noon. A  pretty  sight  indeed,  which  many  eyes  followed,  and 
which  one  frank,  honest  pair  stared  at  almost  rudely. 
"  Good  heavens  !  do  you  know  that  woman  ?  " 
The  jDcrson  who  stared,  and  who  put  this  abrupt  question, 
was  a  stranger  in  the  village,  a  short,  russet-bearded,  full-faced 
man  of  forty,  young-looking,  and  immaculately  dressed  in  a 
suit  of  gray,  —  Ralph  Rocknam  of  Remus,  as  the  hotel  register 
showed,  and  father  of  one  of  Miss  Maybloom's  boarding- 
school  girls,  pretty  Priscilla  Rocknam. 

The  person  to  whom  the  question  was  addressed  was  Julia 
Farnell.  Julia  and  her  pupil,  Priscilla  (who  had  become 
enthusiastically  attached  to  her),  and  Priscilla's  young-looking 
father  were  walking  down  High  Street  together;  and  Mr. 
Rocknam,  who  had  been  very  earnest  to  make  Miss  Farnell's 
acquaintance,  was  thanking  her  for  her  very  great   kindness 


MRS.  CHILGROVE  INSTALLED.  297 

to  his  motherless  girl  (he  had  lost  his  wife  a  year  or  two 
before)  when  they  met  Marian  driving  home. 

"Oh,  yes,"'  said  Julia,  "  that  is  Mrs.  Daskill,  —  aver)-chann. 
ing  woman  !     I  have  known  her  all  my  life." 

"  Daskill .'  "  Ralph  Rocknam  repeated,  turning  to  look  back 
at  the  buggy  after  it  had  passed.  His  face  wore  a  curiously 
puzzled  expression  as  he  turned  again  to  Julia.  "  Which  is 
Mrs.  Daskill?" 

"  The  younger  one  with  the  reins." 

"  She  Mrs.  Daskill  !  And  that  woman  with  her !  I  am 
more  astonished  than  ever." 

"Then  it  is  the  other  woman  you  meant  to  ask  me  about. 
Do  you  know  her  ?  " 

"  I  have  n't  that  honor.  But  I  know  those  who  have  — 
though  I  'm  not  so  sure  of  their  esteeming  it  an  honor.  Mrs. 
Daskill  does  n't  know  her,  it  is  evident !  " 

"  I  hear  that  she  is  going  to  live  with  ]\Irs.  Daskill,"  said 
Julia. 

"Live  with  her!"  exclaimed  Ralph  Rocknam.  "Mrs. 
Lafitte  going  to  live  with  Daskill's  wife!     That 's  too  much!  " 

"  You  must  be  mistaken  in  the  person,"  Julia  replied. 
"That  lady  is  Mrs.  Chilgrove  ;  I  never  heard  of  Mrs.  Lafitte." 

"  I  don't  care  what  name  she  goes  under  now ;  I  think  I 
know  the  woman,"  said  Ralph.  "  And  I  find  I  might  better 
have  held  my  tongue  about  her,  not  being  much  of  a  dealer  in 
second-hand  gossip.  I  know  nothing  about  her  cf  my  gu'u 
knowledge^  as  the  lawyers  say ;  so  please  consider  what  I  have 
said  unsaid." 

"I  shall  not  repeat  it,"  replied  Julia.  "  But  I  have  a  very 
great  regard  for  Mrs.  Daskill;  and  if  there  is  anything  about 
Mrs.  Chilgrove  which  she  ought  to  know,  I  wish  you  would 
tell  me  enough,  so  that  I  may  give  her  a   friendly  warning." 

The  father  of  Priscilla  turned  off  on  the  roadside,  and 
knocked  the  heads  of  the  dusty  golden-rods  with  his  cane. 


298  farnell's  folly. 

"  Before  saying  anything  more  of  Mrs.  Lafitte,  —  or  Mrs_ 
Chilgrove,  as  you  call  her,"  he  said,  after  a  little  reflection, — 
"I  ought  to  know  more.  I  think  I  can  get  some  jDositive  in- 
formation with  regard  to  her;  and  I  will  if  you  desire  it.  Will 
you  allow  me  to  write  to  you,  if  1  have  anything  to  communi- 
cate ? " 

"I  shall  be  very  grateful,  if  you  will,"  answered  Julia. 

Meanwhile  Marian  alighted  with  her  new  friend  at  the  door 
of  the  Folly.  Then  Steve,  the  stable-boy,  drove  the  mouse- 
colored  horse  down  to  the  store,  for  Mr.  Daskill  ;  and  in  due 
time  Adolphus  himself,  keeping  a  tight  rein,  his  head  thrown 
back  and  slightly  to  one  side,  rode  rapidly  up  the  hill  and 
wheeled  gracefully  into  the  driveway,  with  the  decorous  dog 
Romeo  on  the  seat  beside  him,  while  Steve  plodded  home  on 
foot. 

Tea  was  announced;  but  Adolphus  was  in  no  hurry  tocome 
in.  He  walked  leisurely  about  the  place,  criticising  the 
gardener's  work,  and  giving  him  orders  for  the  morrow,  stop- 
ping even  to  prune  a  young  vine  with  his  own  hands,  but 
yielded  graciously  when  Marian  went  out  to  fetch  him. 

"  You  forget  Mrs.  Chilgrove  is  here,"  said  Marian;  "or 
you  don't  take  half  the  interest  in  her  I  do." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  take  a  very  great  interest  in  her,  on  your  ac- 
count," replied  Adolphus,  and  went  cheerfully  to  meet  and 
welcome  the  new  inmate  of  his  household. 

He  had  previously  remarked  to  both  Marian  and  Mrs. 
Downey  that  he  would  himself  introduce  Mrs.  Chilgrove  to 
Clarence,  who  was,  accordingly,  to  be  kept  out  of  her  sight 
until  a  fitting  occasion  should  arrive.  "  First  impressions  go 
so  far,"  he  had  said,  "and  this  is  a  matter  which  has  to  be 
managed  with  a  good  deal  of  tact." 

It  v.'as  perphaps  the  consciousness  of  this  duty  before  him 
that  troubled  Adolphus  at  tea.  His  intention  seemed  good 
to   make   the    hospitable    ceremony   pass    off   pleasantly  for 


MRS.  CHILGROVE  INSTALLED.  299 

Marian  and  their  guest,  but  his  manner  was  constrained,  in 
spite  of  his  sociable  endeavors,  and  his  complexion,  never 
very  clear,  was  darkened,  and  by  no  means  beautified,  by  a 
deep  purple  flush. 

Marian  noticed  his  nervousness,  —  so  rare  in  a  person  of 
his  self-poise,  —  and  said  to  herself,  "  Is  it  possible  that  he 
knows  she  does  n't  like  him  ?  Maybe  he  dislikes  her.  How 
good  in  him  to  sacrifice  his  own  feelings  on  my  account!  " 

As  for  the  lady  herself,  she  had  composedly  taken  her  place 
in  the  family,  and  her  manner  was  wholly  unembarrassed  and 
serene. 

After  tea,  Mrs.  Downey,  wh3  had  remained  with  Clarence, 
made  her  appearance,  and,  with  hands  folded  on  her  belt,  sat 
down  primly  on  the  edge  of  a  chair.  Then  Adolphus  gave 
:Marian  a  look,  who,  judging  that  the  time  had  come  for  him 
to  speak  with  i\Irs.  Chilgrove  more  fully  than  she  had  yet 
done  concerning  Clarence,  rose  and  left  the  room.  After  a 
while  she  returned,  and  found  Mrs.  Downey  alone. 

"Where  are  Adolphus  and  Mrs.  Chilgrove  .? "  she  inquired. 

"  He  has  taken  her  to  Clarence's  room,"  replied  IMrs. 
Downey,  in  her  stifTest  and  most  formal  manner. 

Marian  was  aware  that  the  aunt  was  not  well  pleased  with 
Mrs.  Chilgrove's  coming  into  the  house,  and  she  forbore  to 
question  her  further.  She  sat  down,  feeling  strangely  dis- 
heartened and  lonely.  The  shadow,  as  of  some  coming  dread 
event,  was  on  her  spirit.  She  tried  to  read,  to  sew,  to  draw 
Mrs.  Downey  into  conversation,  —  all  in  vain.  At  length 
Adolphus  returned  alone. 

"  It  is  very  singular,"  said  he.  "  I  never  saw  Clarence  take 
to  anybody  as  he  does  to  this  stranger.  They  are  talking  to- 
gether as  quietly  and  pleasantly  as  if  he  had  known  her  all 
his  life.  It  removes  a  great  weight  of  anxiety  froni  my 
mind." 

"  I  am  so  glad  ! "  exclaimed  Marian,  with  a  fond  smile. 


300  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

And  yet  she  could  not  help  feeling  pangs  of  jealousy  and 
remorse,  to  find  that  another  woman  had  the  power  which 
she  lacked,  of  winning  the  gratitude  of  the  father  through  her 
gentle  and  benignant  influence  over  the  son. 

After  this,  Mrs.  Chilgrove  frankly  owned  to  Marian  that  she 
liked  Mr.  Daskill  better. 

"  His  tender  care  of  his  son  is  a  very  beautiful  trait,"  she 
remarked. 

She  also  took  early  occasion  to  inform  Mrs.  Fenway  that 
her  first  prejudices  against  that  lady's  son-in-law  were  wearing 
off,  and  that  everything  was  lovely  in  the  Daskill  household. 

And  yet  Marian  was  not  altogether  happy.  Nor  did  Mrs. 
Chilgrove's  sky  remain  long  unclouded  in  her  new  position. 

One  afternoon,  in  Marian's  absence,  a  young  lady  called 
at  the  house,  and  Mrs.  Chilgrove  went  down  to  speak  with 
her. 

"  Mrs.  Daskill  is  not  at  home,"  she  graciously  informed  the 
visitor. 

"  I  am  aware  of  it.  I  saw  her  drive  away  with  Mr.  Daskill. 
It  is  for  that  reason  I  have  called  at  this  time,  for  I  thought 
it  best  to  see  you  alone." 

Something  in  the  visitor's  tone  or  manner  seemed  to  strike 
Mrs,  Chilgrove  unfavorably.  She  grew  icily  polite  as  she 
seated  herself. 

"You  do  me  a  very  great  honor.  This  is  Miss  Farnell,  I 
think." 

"  It  is,"  replied  Julia;  "and,  if  I  am  not  misinformed,  you 
are  Mrs.  Lafitte." 

The  two  ladies  looked  steadily  at  each  other  for  a  moment, 
the  pale  one  becoming  a  shade  paler,  while  the  expression  of 
her  eyes  grew  strangely  intense. 

"Am  I  to  take  this  as  a  declaration  of  war.  Miss  Farnell?" 
she  asked,  after  a  pause. 

"I  know  of  no  reason  why  you  should,"  replied  Julia. 


MRS.    ClIILGKOVF.    INSTALLED.  3OI 

"  My  friends  do  not  call  me  by  that  name." 

"  I  do  not  claim  to  be  your  friend.  But  I  am  not,  conse- 
quently, your  enemy,  and  if  I  have  called  you  by  a  name 
which  is  not  yours,  then  I  have  been  misinformed,  and  must 
ask  your  pardon." 

"  I  do  not  care  to  have  my  domestic  history  known  wher- 
ever I  go,"  said  Mrs.  Chilgrove.  "It  is  nothing  to  be  proud 
of,  though  the  fault  is  not  mine.  But,  since  you  have  heard 
something  of  it,  I  will  frankly  tell  you  that  Lafitte  is  the  name 
of  my  second  husband.  When  I  was  divorced  from  him,  I 
discarded  his  name  and  took  again  that  of  my  first  husband, 
as  I  had  a  right  to  do." 

The  rare  flush  was  stealing  into  the  white  cheeks,  and  the 
lady  spoke  with  unusual  spirit,  though  in  a  low  and  perfectly 
modulated  tone  of  voice.  Julia's  voice  in  reply  was  low, 
earnest,  tremulous. 

"Excuse  me,  Mrs.  Chilgrove,  if  I  have  called  up  unwelcome 
recollections.  It  is  not  a  pleasant  matter  that  brings  me  here; 
it  must  needs  be  painful  to  both  of  us.  I  have  come  as  Mrs. 
Daskill's  friend.  I  have  heard  a  very  extraordinary  piece  of 
news  regarding  you,  which  I  shall  not  willingly  impart  to  her 
unless  I  am  forced  to  do  so." 

"  What  will  force  you  to  do  anything  so  disagreeable?"  said 
Mrs.  Chilgrove,  coldly  sarcastic. 

"You  may,"  answered  Julia. 

"I.>     How  so.?" 

"  By  refusing  to  comply  with  what  I  am  going  to  request." 

"  What  is  that .?  " 

"That  you  will  leave  this  house,  this  town,  and  never  come 
between  her  and  her  husband  again." 

Mrs.  Chilgrove  laughed,  with  something  mocking  and  evil 
in  her  eyes. 

"  A  modest  request,  truly.     Why  should  I  comply  with  it  ?  " 

"  For  her  sake,  Mrs.  Chilgrove.     Think  of  her,  so  young, 


302  p-ARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

SO  confiding,  just  married;  and  oh,"  pleaded  Julia,  "do  not 
stay  to  poison  her  happiness,  to  blast  her  life  !  " 

"  Has  n't  my  happiness  been  poisoned  ?  "  Mrs.  Chilgrove 
retorted,  with  swift,  stinging  words  of  hate  and  scorn.  "Has n't 
my  life  been  blasted  ?  Then  why  should  I  step  out  of  my 
path  for  her,  if  I  find  her  under  my  feet  ?  " 

"  Have  you  no  heart  of  mercy .'' "  Julia  answered,  sorrow- 
fully and  very  softly.  "  Do  not  visit  on  her  dear,  innocent 
head  the  wrongs  you  have  suffered  from  others." 

"  Have  I  suffered  nothing  from  her?  "  cried  Mrs.  Chilgrove, 
now  all  in  a  blaze.  "You  come  to  me  as  her  friend.  As  her 
friend,  take  this  advice.  Let  me  alone  !  Here  I  am.  Here 
I  stay.  I  have  my  rights.  She  has  not  quite  depri\ed  me 
of  them,  and  you  cannot." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  have  made  you  angry,"  said  Julia.  "  I 
hoped  that  when  you  knew  what  I  know,  you  would  see  how 
impossible  it  is  that  you  should  remain  here,  and  quietly, 
without  scandal  and  without  unnecessary  pain  to  yourself  or 
any  one,  go  away." 

"  And  it  does  n't  occur  to  you  that  you  are  asking  a  great 
deal  ?     Well,  what  do  you  know  ?     Let  's  talk  business." 

"  I  have  a  letter  which  I  will  show  you,  if  you  wish  to  see 
it." 

"  By  all  means.     Let 's  understand  each  other  " 

Julia  produced  a  letter,  which  the  other  readied  out  her 
long,  slim,  white  fingers  to  take,  and  afterwards  read  through, 
without  a  word  of  comment,  from  beginning  to  end.  Then, 
with  a  cold,  defiant  smile,  she  refolded  it,  and  sat  with  it 
clasped  in  both  hands. 

"Will  you  give  me  back  the  letter?  "  said  Julia. 

"Why  should  I?" 

"  Because  it  is  not  yours;  and,  for  one  thing,  to  save  me  the 
trouble  of  procuring  a  copy  of  it,  if  I  find  it  necessary." 

"  I  don't  care  for  it."     And  Mrs.  Chilgrove  contemptuously 


MRS.  CHILGROVE  INSTALLED.  303 

returned  the  missive.  "  Somebody  I  don't  know  takes  an 
amazing  interest  in  my  affairs.  Give  him  my  compUments; 
and  tell  him  if  he  had  come  to  me,  I  could  have  helped  him 
write  a  much  more  damaging  letter  than  that.  He  hasn't 
told  half  the  ston,'.  I  am  a  much  worse  woman  —  a  far  more 
desperate  woman  —  than  he  has  yet  found  out." 

"  Do  you  acknowledge,"  said  Julia,  with  grief  and  distress, 
"that  these  charges  against  you  are  true.-'  " 

"  As  truth  goes  in  this  world,  they  will  pass.  If  I  should 
tell  you  that  what  is  true  in  my  life  from  an  observer's  point 
of  view  is  utterly  false  from  mine,  you  would  not  understand 
me.     So  let  it  go." 

In  return  for  scorn,  Julia  gave  gentleness  of  reproof. 

"I  do  understand  you,  Mrs.  Chilgrove.  I  don't  believe  you 
are  so  bad  at  heart  as  this  story  would  make  you  appear. 
You  have  had  trials,  wrongs,  no  doubt ;  and  I  have  no  desire 
to  judge  you.  On  the  contrar}-,  I  will  be  your  friend,  if  you 
will  let  me.  You  know  I  have  not  come  from  any  bad  motive 
towards  you  or  any  one.  I  want  only  what  is  right.  I  want 
what  is  due  to  my  poor,  dear  Marian,  nothing  more." 

"Do  I  owe  her  anything.''"  said  Mrs.  Chilgrove.  "You 
say  she  has  done  me  no  wrong.  I  'd  as  lieve  tell  you  as  not, 
—  she  has  got  the  man  who  should  have  been  my  husband. 
Is  that  something  to  be  passed  over  in  silence  ?  To  have 
robbed  a  woman  like  me  !  " 

"If  that  is  so,  you  must  consider  that  she  was  innocent  of 
any  wrong  intention.  I  am  sure  she  did  not  know  she  was 
robbing  you ;  to  this  day  she  is  ignorant  that  you  ever  had 
any  claims  on  Mr.  Daskill's  heart  or  hand.  Then  will  you 
seek  to  be  revenged  on  her  ?  No,  Mrs.  Chilgrove !  take  the 
nobler  course.  Let  her  remain  in  ignorance,  and  leave  her 
to  win  back  the  love  which  she  hardly  yet  knows  she  has 
lost." 

Mrs.  Chilgrove  smiled  bitterly. 


304  farnell's  folly. 

"  Do  you  suppose  a  pretty  little  petted  creature  like  her 
could  ever  command  the  heart  of  a  man  like  Adolphus  Das- 
kill  ?  She  pleased  his  fancy,  that  is  all.  He  is  tired  of  her 
already.  I  shall  take  from  her  nothing  that  is  hers,  or  that 
she  has  the  power  to  hold.  But,  unless  you  interfere,  I  can 
keep  her  in  her  place,  and  prevent  him  from  going  out  after 
other  women, —  as  he  certainly  will,  if  I  leave  them.  Shall 
it  be  peace  between  us  .'' " 

"  Not  on  such  terms,"  Julia  replied  firmly.  "  If  it  is  as  you 
say,  then  the  sooner  Marian  knows  everything  the  better.  I 
will  tell  her  at  once.  I  will  meet  her  on  the  way  home  ;  and 
she  will  never  set  foot  in  this  house  again,  while  you  are 
here." 

Mrs.  Chilgrove  felt  that  she  had  met  a  spirit  equal  to  her 
own.  She  hesitated,  and  then  said,  "  Will  you  delay  telling 
her  a  few  days  ? " 

"For  what?" 

"  You  ask  a  great  deal  of  me,  Miss  Farnell.  I  wish  for  a 
little  time  to  consider  it." 

"  How  much  time  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"Ten  days." 

"  It  is  too  much.  This  is  a  matter  that  should  be  settled 
at  once." 

"  Then  regard  it  as  settled,"  said  Mrs.  Chilgrove  haughtily. 
«  I  stay." 

Julia  started  to  go,  but  turned  back. 

"  Mrs,  Chilgrove,"  she  said,  "  I  don't  mean  to  forget  that 
yon  have  a  side  in  this  matter.  I  will  give  you  ample  time  to 
consider  what  you  had  better  do,  and  to  make  all  your  ar- 
rangements.    I  will  wait  ten  days." 

"Thank  you,  Miss  Farnell !     We  had  better  leave  it  so." 


WILL    GETS    A    LONG-PROMISED    RIDE.  305 


tHAPTER  XXXV. 

WILL    GETS    A    LONG-PROMISED    RIDE. 

Mr.  Daskill  started  for  Buffalo  that  afternoon,  and  Marian 
went  to  drive  him  to  the  train.  She  sat  in  the  buggy,  hold- 
ing the  reins,  while  he  stepped  upon  the  platform  of  a  car ; 
then  watched  with  dreamy  eyes  as  the  train  sped  away.  Was 
she  so  sad  at  parting  from  him  ?  Or  did  she  remember  how  a 
young  girl  once,  wild  with  remorse  for  her  own  false  conduct, 
and  fear  of  losing  her  lover,  sat  in  the  stage-coach  there,  and 
saw  him  whirled  away  on  that  iron  track,  —  to  return  to  her 
no  more  ?  Did  she  ever  have  such  a  lover.?  V/as  that  frantic 
young  girl  herself? 

It  was  some  minutes  before  she  roused  from  her  revery, 
and  summoned  a  resolution  to  turn  the  horse  towards  home. 
Perhaps  she  had  been  waiting  for  the  stage-coach  to  get  off 
and  leave  the  way  clear  for  her.  It  rolled  away  at  last,  pitch- 
ing and  lurching,  with  its  freight  of  passengers  and  trunks ; 
and  she  follov.ed  in  its  wake.  The  fond  husband's  parting 
words  to  her  had  been,  "  Now  keep  a  tight  rein  as  you  drive 
back,  Marian  ! "  Had  she  forgotten  them  ?  She  drove  with  a 
slack  rein  ;  her  hands  lay  upon  her  lap ;  the  long-stepping 
horse  walked. 

It  was  now  November  ;  the  autumn  foliage,  which  liad  been 
in  its  glory  that  afternoon  when  she  took  Mrs.  Chilgrove  home, 
was  faded  and  fallen,  and  flying  in  the  wind.  She  could  not 
help  thinking  that  the  golden  hopes  that  colored  the  world  for 
her  then  had  also  faded  and  fallen,  leaving  the  boughs  of  life 
bleak  and  bare. 

Yet  she  hardly  knew  what  she  had  to  complain  of.     Mrs. 


3o6  farnell's  folly. 

Chilgrove  was  a  pleasant  companion  ;  and  Adolphus  was 
kinder  now  than  he  had  been  for  a  long  while  before.  Clar- 
ence was  better.  Was  she  jealous  of  Clarence  ?  She  felt 
that  she  ought  to  be  grateful  because  the  companion  she  had 
chosen  for  herself  could  do  so  much  for  him.  And  she  was 
grateful ;  she  did  not  begrudge  a  moment  of  the  time,  nor 
any  part  of  the  affectionate  sympathy,  which  Mrs.  Chilgrove 
gave  the  poor  boy.  But  she  was  made  to  feel  keenly  her  own 
failure  in  duty  towards  him  ;  and  it  must  be  owned  that  the 
long  evening  hours  which  the  companion  and  the  husband 
sometimes  spent  together  in  the  son's  room  were  to  the  wife 
hours  of  heart-breaking  loneliness. 

Had  her  desire  to  establish  confidential  relations  with  Mrs. 
Chilgrove  met  with  the  least  encouragement  on  the  part  of 
that  lady  ?  Why,  yes ;  Mrs.  Chilgrove  had  listened  acquies 
cently,  and  drawn  her  on  to  make  disclosures  of  her  own 
heart ;  but  it  had  been  much  as  a  person  of  superior  age  and 
experience  calls  out  the  impulsive  prattle  of  a  child,  giving 
never  a  word  of  her  own  secret  thought  and  life  in  return. 
Subsequent  reflection  upon  the  lady's  way  with  her  at  these 
times  generally  brought  to  Marian  some  stinging  mortification 
and  regret.  And  all  the  while  she  had  a  growing  sense  of 
something  kept  from  her  by  a  sort  of  conspiracy  among  all 
the  members  of  the  household,  —  something  which  even  the 
sour  and  dissatisfied  Mrs.  Downey  perceived,  but  which 
remained  impenetrable  to  herself. 

She  was  pondering  this  state  of  things,  and  wondering  how 
it  was  to  end,  and  the  ebb  of  her  spirits  was  very  low  indeed, 
when  she  perceived  a  young  man  walking  before  her  on  the 
roadside.  A  somewhat  sturdy  young  fellow,  with  the  lapels 
of  his  light-brown  coat  thrown  loosely  back  and  the  ample 
brim  of  his  picturesque  hat  carelessly  slouched,  —  he  was  on 
the  whole  a  rather  interesting  and  noticeable  figure,  wonder- 
fully so  to  Marian,  as  it  appeared. 


WILL    GETS    A    LONG-PROMISED    RIDE.  307 

She  was  all  in  a  flutter  of  surprise  and  embarrassment 
when  the  fast-stepping  horse  brought  the  buggy  alongside  the 
traveller.  He  was  walking  slowly,  in  a  pensive  mood,  and  did 
not  look  up  until  she  spoke. 

"  Will  Rayburn  !  is  that  you  ?  " 

He  replied,  with  a  pleasant  look  of  recognition  :  "  How  do 
you  do,  —  Mrs.  Daskill,  I  suppose  1  am  to  say  .?  " 

"  Oh,  no !  I  am  Marian  still  to  my  old  friends,"  said  the 
young  wife,  flashing  all  her  fascinations  upon  him  as  she  drew 
rein.     "Won't  you  ride  ?  " 

"Thank  you,  Mrs.  Daskill.     I  think  I  had  better  not." 

"I  don't  see  why.  How  it  will  look  for  me  to  drive  past 
you  with  an  empty  seat,  and  leave  you  to  plod  along  on  foot !" 

"  How  it  will  look  for  you  to  pick  me  up! "  said  Will. 

There  were  two  conflicting  sides  to  Marian's  character: 
schooled  as  she  was  to  shape  her  conduct  by  rules  of  prudent 
self-interest,  she  was  also  capable  of  acting  with  strange 
impulsiveness. 

"  Get  in  !  "  she  said  sweetly. 

And  in  he  got,  observing  with  a  laugh  as  she  drove  on,  — 

"So,  it  seems,  I  am  to  ride  after  Mr.  Daskill's  horse,  after 
all!  He  promised  me  this  treat.  But— won't  he  object  to 
furnishing  the  driver  ?  " 

"  I  see  nothing  that  he  can  reasonably  object  to.  Did  he 
really  promise  you  a  ride  ?  "  Marian  asked,  with  a  beaming 
side-glance  at  her  companion.  ("How  handsome  he  is,  with 
that  brown  beard  !  "  she  thought.) 

"Yes,  several — rides  in  the  plural  number.  That  was 
•when  I  had  my  lame  ankle.  But  I  knew  the  coming  horse  and 
bu"-fy  were  not  for  me.  Now  I  don't  know  what  I  am  riding 
with  you  for !     Stop,  and  let  me  get  out." 

She  seemed  delermir.ed  to  ignore  the  fact  that  there  had 
ever  been  anything  between  them  which  should  prevent  their 
meeting  on  friendly  terms. 


3o8  fari^ell's  folly. 

"You  didn't  seem  at  all  surprised  when  I  overtook  you," 
she  remarked. 

"  I  was  n't.  I  saw  you  v/aiting  at  the  depot,  and  knew  you 
would  be  coming  after  me." 

"And  you  were  not  going  to  look  up  !  " 

"  Not  till  after  you  had  passed.  Then  I  was  going  to  have 
a  good  look  at  you." 

"Then  you  did  care  to  see  me?"  she  said  coquettishly. 

"Do  you  think  me  a  man  of  stone  ?  "  he  gravely  answered. 

He  was  not,  then,  indifferent  to  her.  Marian  was  silent 
for  a  moment,  enjoying  the  thrill  which  this  assurance  brought. 

"  Strange,"  she  said  at  length,  "that  I  should  have  happened 
to  be  at  the  depot  on  your  arrival,  just  as  I  happened  to  be 
there  the  morning  you  went  away,  —  you  remember.'*  " 

"Do  I  remember.^ "  echoed  Will.  "But  was  that  a  mere 
happening  ? " 

"Why,  w^hat  else  could  it  have  been.?"  she  answered,  with 
evasive  archness, — perhaps  to  call  him  out,  —  for  she  could 
be  a  sly  little  prevaricatress,  upon  occasion. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  had  no  vanity  to  whisper  foolish  things 
to  me  then.  But  somehow,  I  fancied  —  oh,  well !  "  exclaimed 
Will,  interrupting  himself,  "we  mustn't  talk  of  those  things 
now  ! " 

"Yes!  talk  of  them!"  she  insisted.  "What  did  you 
fancy  ? " 

"  Why,  that  you  had  come  over  here  that  morning  for  me." 

"  Cut  would  n't  that  have  been  a  foolish  errand  ?  " 

"No  !  "  said  Will,  "  not  if  you  were  obeying  the  true  impulse 
of  your  heart.  But  if  you  came  merely  to  leave  a  last  sting  in 
mine  by  showing  me  your  face  just  as  I  was  leaving  you 
forever,  that  was  not  merely  foolish,  it  was  worse." 

"  I  am  not  so  wicked  as  that !  But  if  I  had  been  obeying 
a  true  impulse,  and  you  had  known  that  I  was,  what  would 
you  have  done  ?  " 


WILL    GETS    A    LONG-PROMISED    RIDE.  309 

"  Once,  I  might  have  broken  my  neck  jumping  off  the  train 
for  you.  Wise  as  I  was  then,  I  should  have  gone  on  my 
journey  just  the  same,  and  waited  to  know  how  deep  and 
constant  that  impulse  was.  If  I  heard  of  your  marriage  in  a 
few  weeks,  what  could  I  have  thought  ?  Naturally,  that  it 
Avas  but  a  weak  and  short-lived  impulse,  and  that  it  was  lucky 
I  did  not  risk  my  neck  in  making  any  very  desperate  leap." 

Marian  was  silent  again.  No  sweet  thrill  this  time,  but  a 
pang  of  self-reproach  and  regret.  Still  she  could  not  let  the 
dangerous  matter  be  ;  she  must  play  with  the  fire.  Yearning 
to  know  just  how  he  felt  towards  her,  and  whether  she  had 
yet  lost  all  power  over  him,  she  said,  — 

"  What  if  you  had  not  heard  of  my  marriage  .-•  " 

Will  paused  before  answering ;  then  turned  and  looked  at 
her  Avith  the  old  searching,  sincere,  truth-compelling  gaze. 

"You  are  the  same  Marian,  I  see.  Is  my  heart  a  pear  or 
a  peach,  that  you  should  always  want  to  be  putting  your  little 
thumb  into  it,  to  see  how  soft  it  is .''  You  don't  really  care  for 
me,  and  never  did  ;  and  if  you  did,  you  are  a  married  woman 
now.  So  never  mind  what  has  been  or  what  might  have  been. 
How  is  my  mother  ?     When  did  you  see  her  last  ? " 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  ? "  she  cried,  one  of  her  wild  impulses 
seizing  her.  "It  was  the  night  before  you  left  home.  I 
walked  by  your  house.  I  stopped  and  looked  in  at  the 
window.  I  saw  you  and  her  talking  together.  It  was  all  I 
could  do  to  keep  from  going  in.  Will,  you  say  I  never  cared 
for  you  !  If  it  had  n't  been  for  my  father,  I  could  n't  have 
come  away  without  speaking  to  you  that  night.  Then  I  felt 
that  if  I  could  only  ride  over  in  the  coach  with  you  the  next 
morning,  and  see  you  for  the  last  time,  —  but  you  did  not  go 
in  the  coach.  And  you  did  not  get  off  the  train  when  you 
saw  me  ;  you  did  not  come  back,  nor  write  to  me." 

All  the  disappointment,  the  long-pent-up  miser}- and  despair 
which  marriage  had  brought  to  her,  in  place  of  the  happiness 


3IO  farnell's  folly. 

and  peace  it  promised,  swelled  her  heart  and  gave  impetus  to 
the  passion  with  which  she  spoke.  Perhaps,  also,  something 
besides  mere  memory  of  the  old  love  and  grief  came  back. 
Tears  were  flashing  in  her  eyes  as  she  drew  tight  the  reins 
and  let  the  horse  speed  away. 

Will  had  not  wished  to  hear  such  a  confession  as  that.  He 
could  not  doubt  the  truth  of  it  ;  yet  might  it  not  have  been 
partly  the  desire  to  try  its  effect  on  him  which  prompted  her 
to  make  it  ?  Not  that  she  could  have  seriously  designed  to 
renew  her  flirtation  with  him  ;  but  the  old  habit  was  still  strong, 
the  restless  longing  she  always  had  to  test  his  feeling  for  her, 
and  to  provoke  and  agitate  him  when  he  appeared  indifferent. 

A  man's  sense  of  propriety  seems  often  finer  than  a  woman's. 
Her  ill-timed  and  indiscreet  candor  was  not  welcome  ;  it  hurt 
and  embarrassed  him.  How  should  he  deal  truly  and  honor- 
ably with  this  dear,  beautiful,  passionate,  unhappy  girl .?  One 
thing  was  certain,  he  must  not  give  way  to  any  of  the  old  feel- 
ings which  their  coming  again  together  might  revive.  He  did 
not  even  let  himself  think  how  delicious  it  might  have  been  to 
indulge  them,  nor  triumph  in  the  knowledge  that  she  had  never 
been  another's  as  she  had  been  and  still  was  his. 

He  reached  out  and  gently  laid  hold  of  the  reins,  spoke  to 
the  horse,  and  subdued  his  pace  to  a  slow  trot. 

"  Marian,"  he  said,  "  I  did  n't  want  you  to  tell  me  what  you 
did  just  now.  We  had  better  let  the  past  be  ;  but  since  it  has 
come  up,  let  us  understand  each  other.  I  have  thought  of  you 
a  great  deal,  and  so  wholly  unselfish  is  my  regard  for  you 
that  I  have  hoped,  I  have  constantly  prayed,  that  you  might 
find  happiness  in  your  marriage." 

"  Oh,  I  have  !  I  am  very  happy,"  said  Marian,  ashamed  of 
her  imprudence.     "  Why  do  you  think  I  am  not  ?  " 

"  Such  outbursts  of  feeling  do  not  come  from  a  calm  and 
satisfied  heart,"  Will  answered.  "Are  you -speaking  truly 
now  ?    Marian,  you  know  that  I  know  you  are  not."     After  a 


WILL    GETS    A    LONG-PROMISED    RIDE.  3II 

pause  he  added  :  "  Marian,  if  there  is  to  be  anything  between 
us  in  the  future,  let  it  be  the  truth.  Tell  me  nothing  of  your- 
self, if  you  like  ;  but  if  you  speak  at  all,  let  it  be  in  simple 
sincerity,  as  to  one  who,  whatever  he  may  have  been  to  you, 
is  now,  henceforth  and  always,  your  friend." 

"Then  you  don't  utterly  despise  me?"  she  said  with  a 
pretty  frown  of  self-hatred,  biting  her  lovely  lip.  "  I  should 
think  you  would  !  Is  there  another  such  weak,  foolish,  incon- 
sistent creature  in  the  world  ?     Can  you  still  be  my  friend  ?  " 

"  I  feel  powerless  to  tell  you  how  truly  I  can  be  ;  but  I 
might  sho7a  you,  if  the  occasion  ever  should  come  when  you 
required  mv  friendship.  Have  you  such  a  friend  as  you 
need  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Marian.  "  Julia  broke  with  me  after  I  broke 
with  you.  There  's  nobody  in  the  world  to  take  her  place. 
I  am  afraid  of  my  mother.  Lottie  doesn't  believe  in  me,  nor 
understand  me.  And  though  I  have  a  husband  and  a  com- 
panion —  "     She  paused,  afraid  of  what  she  was  going  to  say. 

"What  companion  ?  "  Will  inquired. 

"  Mrs.  Chilgrove.     You  remember  her  ?  " 

"Very  well  indeed!  But  what  do  you  mean?  Com- 
panion ?  " 

"Yes;  I  don't  know  what  else  to  call  her.  She  is  not  a 
servant;  but  she  lives  with  me,  and  helps  about  my  sewing 
and  other  things." 

Will  gave  an  involuntary  shudder. 

"  You  don't  like  her  !    Why  not  ?  " 

"Why  don't  I  like  a  serpent?  I  may  have  no  ill-will 
towards  it.  I  can  tolerate  it  in  its  place.  But  if  I  see 
it  crawling  about  a  child  —  ugh  !" 

A  feeling  of  fright  and  faintness  came  over  Marian.  It 
was  a  disagreeable  subject,  and  he  changed  it. 

"  Tell  me  about  the  Farnells  :  how  are  they  getting  along  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  them,"  replied    Marian,  who 


3^12  farnell's  folly. 

would  have  preferred  going  back  to  the  old  topic  and  talking 
about  herself.  "  Julia  is  still  working  hard  to  give  the  girls 
an  education  and  support  the  old  man  in  his  idleness.  But 
there  is  talk  of  her  soon  getting  beyond  that." 

"  How  so  ? " 

"  She  has  a  beau." 

"  She  always  had  several,  only  waiting  for  her  to  give  them 
a  little  encouragement," 

"  This  is  not  one  of  those.  He  is  a  widower  of  forty,  very 
rich,  they  say.  He  is  the  father  of  one  of  the  seminary  girls. 
She  has  been  home  and  told  him  what  a  lovable  being  Miss 
Farnell  is,  and  he  has  come  to  see  her  and  judge  for  himself. 
He  has  been  for  some  time  looking  for  a  wife  ;  and  now  I 
suppose  he  has  found  one," 

"  Have  you  any  authority  for  that  but  hearsay  ?  " 

"  Hearsay  and  eye-evidence.  He  lately  came  over  from 
Remus  to  visit  his  daughter,  but,  instead  of  going  back  that 
day  or  the  next,  he  stayed  three  days,  and  took  her  and  Julia 
to  ride  every  evening  except  the  last,  when  he  took  Julia 
alone." 

Will  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  said, — 

"  I  am  heartily  glad  of  it,  if  he  is  a  good  and  worthy  man  ! 
I  don't  believe  in  marrying  for  money  any  more  than  I 
believe  in  committing  any  other  sin.  But  I  believe  in  mar- 
riage ;  and  that  would  be  hardly  possible  for  Julia,  now  or  for 
some  years  to  come,  unless  the  man  of  her  choice  happens 
also  to  be  a  man  of  means.  She  is  not  a  girl  to  leave  her 
family  unprovided  for ;  but  if  necessary,  she  will  sacrifice 
herself  for  them  in  eveiy  way  but  one." 

"  What  way  is  that  ?  " 

"  She  will  not  marry  a  rich  man  merely  because  he  is  rich, 
even  for  their  sakes.  I  know  her  well  enough  to  be  sure 
of  that.  She  is  a  girl  of  extraordinary  virtue  and  courage 
and  truth." 


WILL    GETS    A    LONG-PROMISED    RIDE.  313 

Even' word  of  praise  Will  bestowed  on  Julia  had  for  Marian 
a  sting  of  reproach. 

"  I  thought  yoH  would  come  back  and  marrj'  Julia,"  she 
said,  still  mellowing  the  peach. 

"  That  is  out  of  the  question.  I  have  already  told  you  why 
she  cannot  marry  a  poor  man." 

"  You  thought  somebody  else  might  marr^'  you,  without  com- 
mitting any  very  great  folly." 

"  Somebody  else  was  not  situated  as  Julia  is.  If  somebody  else 
had  chosen  to  brave  the  world  with  me — but  we  are  not 
going  to  talk  of  that." 

"  I  imagined  you  would  come  back  with  a  fortune,"  said 
Marian. 

"  I  should  have  liked  a  fortune,  with  the  motive  I  once  had 
to  gain  one."  It  was  sweet  for  her  to  think  she  was  the 
motive.  "But  now,"  he  went  on,  "why  should  I  care  to  be 
rich.^  I  should  like  to  see  if  there  isn't  something  worth 
living  for  besides  wealth  and  respectability." 

Something  smote  coldly  on  Marian's  heart.  It  was  as  if  he 
had  blasphemed  her  household  gods. 

"  Don't  you  believe  in  respectability  ? "  she  falteringly  asked. 

"  Since  I  have  been  away,"  said  Will,  "  I  have  seen  every- 
body striving  for  two  things, — wealth  and  appearance. 
Money,  money,  money  is  the  talk  one  hears  ever\'where,  on 
the  street,  in  hotels  and  railroad  cars  ;  how  to  get  it,  who  has 
it,  who  has  lost  it.  Then  on  Sunday  appears  the  great 
pageant  of  respectability.  I  got  sick  of  it  all,  and  thought 
I  would  come  back,  and  live  with  the  trees  and  flowers  and 
cattle,  and  try  to  be  sane  all  by  myself,  if  I  could  n't  coax 
anybody  else  to  be  sane  with  me.  I  will  consider  the  lilies 
of  the  field.  *  I  don't  belong  in  that  mad  crowd  anyhow." 

Marian's  heart  contracted  more  and  more,  as  perhaps  he 
meant  it  should. 

"  O  Will,"  she  feebly  objected,  "  I  'm  afraid  I  don't  under- 


314  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

Stand  you.  I  'm  afraid  I  can't  sympathize  with  you  in  all  you 
say." 

"  I  don't  expect  you  to.  Between  you  and  me,  there  is  a 
great  gulf.  On  your  side,  fashion,  conventionality,  the  mere 
forms  and  traditions  of  religion.  We  can  never  come 
together.  I  cannot  go  to  you  ;  and  will  you  ever  choose  the 
way  of  peace  and  righteousness  .''  I  have  thought  a  great 
deal  about  you  and  your  mother,  Marian,  and  prayed  for  your 
conversion," 

It  seemed  to  her  that  he  must  be  uttering  a  terrible  sar- 
casm. She  was  moderately  pious,  she  hoped,  enough  so,  at 
least,  for  the  practical  purposes  of  salvation  ;  but  the  kind  of 
religion  he  talked  made  her  afraid.  Her  rekindling  passion 
for  him  was  cooled,  for  a  time  at  least. 

They  were  approaching  the  village  ,  and  now  once  more 
the  timid  and  calculating  side  of  Marian's  character  regained 
the  ascendency.  She  began  to  dread  the  eyes  of  people,  and  to 
wonder  what  this  one  and  that  one  would  say  when  they  saw 
her  and  Will  Rayburn  riding  together.  He  read  her  secret 
thought.  And  when  she  turned  into  a  by-street,  in  order  not 
to  be  seen  driving  with  him  through  the  heart  ot  the  village, 
he  leaped  to  the  ground. 

"  Won't  you  let  me  take  you  home  ?  "  she  asked,  in  a  feeble 
tone  of  remonstrance. 

"  No,  thank  you.     Good  by." 

"Poor  Will!"  she  murmured  to  herself,  inclined  to  pity 
him,  for  the  moment  seeing  only  the  poor  young  man  without 
prospects,  unsuccessful  in  business  and  in  love. 

Then  suddenly  rose  before  the  eyes  of  her  spirit  a  different 
image,  —  a  youthful  and  radiant  soul,  superior  to  fortune, 
transfiguring  mean  conditions,  and  dwarfing  all  her  own  ideas 
of  life  by  his  nobler  standard. 

Marian  turned  the  mouse-colored  horse,  and,  with  a  wretched 
sense  of  loss  and  misgiving,  drove  homeward  through  the 
village. 


A    BLOW    AT    THE    BUBBLING    RUN.  315 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

A    BLOW    AT    THE    BUBBLING    RUN. 

The  cheerful  air  wiih  which  Will  carried  himself  covered 
some  very  serious  thoughts.  His  meeting  with  Marian  had 
awakened  sadder  and  more  tender  emotions  than  he  betrayed; 
and  now  it  was  with  a  swelling  heart  that  he  gazed  up  the 
street  and  saw  the  little  old  house  which  he  still  called  home. 

In  the  dull  light  of  the  fading  November  afternoon,  it 
looked  rather  lonely  to  him,  it  must  be  owned.  The  smoke 
from  the  chimney  told  him  that  his  mother  was  there  ;  was 
she  cooking  her  solitary  supper?  Poor  old  widow  !  He  thrilled 
to  think  of  her  surprise  and  pleasure  at  sight  of  him.  Yet  he 
knew  that  she  had  set  her  heart  on  his  success;  and  here  he 
was,  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  at  least,  a  failure.  He  was  sorry 
to  disappoint  her  ;  and  he  dreaded  her  reproaches  and 
complaints. 

There  was  Ward  Farnell's  cottage  beyond,  with  many 
another  familiar  roof  in  view.  The  bare  elms,  the  dead  leaves 
of  the  oak-trees  still  fluttering  in  the  wind,  the  brown  fields, 
the  desolate  gardens,  the  sound  of  the  waterfall,  and  the  noise 
of  the  trip-hammers,  the  peculiar  autumnal  odors  in  the  air, 
the  children  in  the  street  or  in  front  yards,  the  cattle  coming 
home,  the  distant  cow-bell,  —  in  these  sights  and  sounds  and 
scents  the  spirit  of  all  the  Novembers  of  all  his  life  seemed 
to  revive.  Memories  crowded  upon  him  ;  and  if  some  were 
bitter,  if  the  pale  ghost  of  many  a  once  bright  joy  and  hope 
flitted  before  him,  sighed  in  the  wind,  and  rustled  in  the  fallen 
leaves,  if  the  old  sense  of  wrong  and  grief  came  up, —  is  it 


3i6  farnell's  folly. 

very  strange  ?  Some  shadowy  forebodings,  too,  must  have 
troubled  so  sensitive  a  soul.  He  was  not  indifferent  to  the 
good  opinion  of  good  people ;  and  he  knew  how  many  would 
shake  their  heads  at  his  odd  notions  and  his  bad  luck. 

Mrs.  Rayburn  was  putting  her  solitary  plate  and  cup  and 
saucer  on  the  board  when  her  son  came  in. 

"  You  may  as  well  set  the  table  for  two,  while  you  are  about 
it,  mother,"  he  said  in  the  old  cheery  way,  much  as  if  he  had 
only  gone  off  in  the  morning  and  come  home  at  night. 

"  William  !  "  she  exclaimed,  putting  the  last  dish  hurriedly 
in  its  place  ;  and,  turning  to  meet  him,  she  clasped  his  out- 
stretched hand  and  dropped  her  head  on  his  shoulder.  Her 
form  trembled,  and  there  was  a  sob  or  two ;  then  she  drew 
back  far  enough  to  look  at  him,  laughing  in  a  nervous  hysteri- 
cal way,  and  wiping  her  eyes  with  her  apron.  "  Why  did  n't 
you  let  me  know  you  was  coming  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  knew  it  myself,"  said  William,  "till  all  at  once  it 
came  to  me  that  I  was  to  start.  Then  I  did  n't  expect  to 
come  directly  home.  I  have  loitered  by  the  way, —  walked  a 
a  good  deal ;  but  to-day,  seeing  a  train  stop  at  a  station,  it 
occurred  to  me  that  if  I  stepped  aboard  of  it,  I  might  take 
supper  with  my  mother.  And  here  I  am.  Will  there  be 
toast  enough  for  two  ?  " 

Mrs.  Rayburn  had  many  questions  to  ask,  and  he  frankly 
told  her  his  stor)'.  To  his  surprise,  she  did  not  reproach  him 
or  complain :  she  was  too  glad  to  see  him  home  once  more. 
He  fell  into  the  old  homely  way  of  life  as  if  he  had  not  been 
more  than  a  day  out  of  it,  and  soon  found  himself  lifting  the 
teakettle  for  her,  bringing  water,  and  preparing  wood  for  the 
morning's  fire.  Two  thankful  hearts  were  at  rest  that  night 
under  the  old  roof. 

The  next  forenoon  Will  walked  into  the  fork  factor}-. 
Amidst  the  smoke  and  dust  and  flying  sparks  and  the  din  of 
the    trip-hammers,  he  found  his  friend  Miles,  who  received 


A    BLOW    AT    THE    BUBBLING    RUN.  31/ 

him  with  great  cordiality,  and  took  him  into  the  counting- 
room,  where  they  could  have  a  quiet  talk  together. 

"  You  see,"  said  Will,  "  I  have  come  to  take  you  at  your 
word ;  that  is,  if  you  have  anything  left  for  me  to  do." 

"I  believe  you  are  just  the  man  I  want,"  said  Miles;  "and 
3^ou  have  come  at  the  right  time.  Water  has  been  low  nearly 
all  summer,  and  the  work  has  got  behindhand,  so  that  now  we 
have  our  hands  full.  Besides,  Walter,  who  has  been  helping 
me  about  my  books  in  his  vacation,  is  at  school  again,  and  I  'm 
bothered  to  keep  my  accounts  square." 

"  I  'm  delighted  to  hear  it !  "  said  Will.  "  Your  need  is  my 
opportunity.     What  am  I  to  do  ? " 

"  I  want  a  good,  faithful  bookkeeper  and  cashier,  most  of 
anything.  Then,  after  you  get  the  run  of  things,  there  will 
be  much  of  the  general  business  you  can  attend  to  as  well 
as  I.  What  I  have  been  wanting  for  some  time  is  a  partner; 
but  a  young  man  like  you,  William,  who  can  be  depended  on 
to  take  an  interest  in  the  shop  and  give  his  energies  to  it,  will 
answer  my  purpose.  I  only  wish  I  could  offer  you  satisfac- 
tory wages." 

"  Maybe  you  can.     What  can  you  afford  ?  " 

"  Not  more  than  twelve  dollars  a  week  at  first,  I  'm  afraid." 

"  Why,  twelve  dollars  is  munificent !  "  cried  Will.  "  When 
shall  I  begin  ?  " 

"  Any  time." 

"Now.?" 

"This  minute,"  said  Miles,  laughing. 

"  To-day  is  Saturday,"  replied  Will.  "  Let  my  regular  work 
begin  next  Monday.  In  the  mean  while  I  '11  look  around  and 
see  what  I  can  learn." 

"Very  well.  Walter  will  be  out  of  school  this  afternoon, 
and  he  will  show  you  about  the  books.     I  'm  very  busy  now." 

"  So  am  I,"  said  Will.     "  I  've  just  got  a  situation." 

Miles  returned  to  his  work,  and  Will  began  at  once  to  learn 


3i8  farnell's  folly. 

the  routine  of  the  shop.  At  noon  he  carried  home  the  news 
to  his  mother.  His  mind  was  now  at  rest ;  he  was  sure  of 
earning  a  livelihood,  and  of  making  her  comfortable,  and  the 
thought  of  being  employed  in  so  useful  a  business,  wiih  so 
genial  and  upright  a  man  as  Miles  Fenway,  made  him  thank- 
ful and  happy.  She  had  taken  a  very  gloomy  view  of  his 
prospects  when  he  went  out  in  the  morning,  and  though  she 
brightened  a  little  when  he  told  her  that  Miles  had  hired  him, 
she  did  not  know  how  much  reliance  to  place  upon  the  cheer- 
fulness of  his  countenance,  which,  it  must  be  confessed,  had 
sometimes  beamed  upon  her  most  hopefully  when  his  future 
seemed  most  dark. 

"  Well,  I  don't  suppose  he  pays  you  much,"  she  murmured. 

"  How  much  do  you  suppose  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  d'n'  know,  —  may  be  six  dollars  a  week." 

"  And  how  much  do  )ou  think  he  ought  to  pay  me  ? " 

"  I  should  n't  think  you  ought  to  get  less  than  ten." 

"  Mother,"  cried  Will,  "  we  are  millionnaires  :  I  am  to  have 
twelve  dollars  a  week  at  the  start." 

"Why  !     I  want  to  know  !     Ain't  that  pretty  good .?  " 

"  It 's  princely,  mother!  " 

"  Well,  I  d'n'  know.  'T  aint  much,  come  to  think  on  't. 
You  've  had  more." 

"Yes,  when  I  was  expected  to  sell  my  conscience  with  my 
services." 

"  I  hope  nothing  of  that  kind  will  interfere  with  your  keep- 
ing this  place.  You  may  not  have  another  such  streak  of 
luck." 

"  I  don't  call  this  luck,  mother.  It  has  been  provided.  I 
have  felt  for  a  long  while  that  it  was  to  be.  And  something 
more  is  to  come  of  it  for  all  of  us.  Oh  ! "  exclaimed  Will, 
"  if  I  could  only  learn  to  have  faith  in  my  intuitions  without 
fear  of  confounding  what  I  wish  or  I  think  with  what  my  soul 
perceives!  " 


A    BLOW    AT    THE    BUBBLING    RUN.  3I9 

That  afternoon  he  learned  all  that  Walter  could  show  him 
about  the  accounts  and  correspondence,  and  commenced  work 
in  earnest  on  Monday.  He  soon  mastered  the  details  of  the 
business,  and  v>as  prepared  to  lend  a  hand  at  anything, — 
weighing,  packing,  making  boxes,  or  helping  Geordie  Lorkins 
load  up  his  wagon  with  forks  for  a  fresh  trip. 

"Will  is  like  another  myself,"  Miles  Fenway  said.  "It 
seems  now  almost  as  if  there  were  two  of  me." 

Will's  return  home  had  caused  a  good  deal  of  remark  in 
the  village,  but  he  had  set  quietly  about  his  work,  and  gone 
out  of  his  way  for  nobody.  He  was  on  friendly  terms  with 
all  the  workmen  in  the  shop,  and  by  his  calm  strength  of 
character,  perfect  sincerity,  and  kindliness,  together  wnth 
that  indescribable  something,  which,  for  want  of  a  better 
name,  we  call  magnetism,  he  soon  came  to  exercise  a  great 
influence  over  them. 

The  Bubbling  Run  fever  was  at  its  height  at  this  time, 
and  the  men,  nearly  all  of  whom  had  saved  a  little  money, 
were  talking  of  making  investments  in  Daskill's  speculation. 
They  had  hitherto  hesitated  because  Mr.  Fenway  would  not 
say  a  word  to  encourage  them  in  it.  But  now  the  shares 
were  going  up ;  and  having  discussed  the  matter  among  them- 
selves, and  listened  to  the  advice  of  Deacon  Tibbetts  and  Mr, 
Solomon  Tompkins,  who  engaged  to  get  stock  for  them  at 
fiftA'-five  after  it  had  reached  sixt}-,  they  had  about  decided, 
one  and  all,  to  put  their  earnings  into  that  alluring 
enterprise. 

Will  heard  a  good  deal  of  their  conversation,  and  remained 
as  silent  on  the  subject  as  Miles  himself.  But  there  was  a 
cloud  on  his  spirit  when  it  was  spoken  of  in  his  presence, — 
a  sort  of  thunder-cloud,  as  it  proved,  when  an  unlucky  head 
drew  the  lightning. 

It  was  the  head  of  good  old  Deacon  Tibbetts. 

The  deacon,  —  a   short,    brown,  wrinkled,   elderly  man, — 


320  farnell's  folly. 

jjassing  the  shop  one  evening  when  the  boys  were  washing 
up,  took  occasion  to  step  into  the  yard  and  ask  them  how 
many  shares  they  were  Ukely  to  want. 

"  I  must  know  at  once,"  said  he ;  "  for  Mr.  Daskill,  who 
has  been  keeping  them  for  me,  says  he  can't  hold  them  at  a 
sacrifice  much  longer.  William  Rayburn,  you  ought  to  have 
a  hand  in  this.  If  you  want  a  share  or  two,  I  can  get  'em  for 
you  at  the  same  rate,  since  you  are  one  of  Mr.  Fenway's 
workmen.     Mr.  Daskill  is  very  glad  to  favor  them." 

"Mr.  Daskill  has  no  favors  for  me,"  William  replied. 
"And  I  should  consider  them  very  doubtful  favors  from 
anybody,  that  came  in  the  shape  of  shares  in  the  Bubbling 
Run." 

As  these  were  the  first  words  the  men  had  heard  from  Will 
on  the  subject,  and  as  they  had  found  him  not  much  given  to 
the  use  of  strong  language  without  strong  reasons,  they 
pricked  up  their  ears.  The  gate,  through  which  the  deacon 
had  entered  from  the  street,  stood  open,  and  now  sandy-whis- 
kered Solomon  Tompkins  sauntered  in.  Two  or  three  others 
whom  Will  knew  also  stopped  to  see  what  was  going  on.  He 
did  not  seem  inclined  to  continue  the  conversation,  but  turned 
away,  and  glanced  about  him  with  a  somewhat  troubled  look. 

"It  seems  to  me,  William,"  said  the  deacon,  "it  is  hardly 
becoming  in  a  young  man  like  you  to  set  up  your  opinion 
against  the  experience  of  men  much  older  than  yourself." 

William  paused,  his  countenance  still  troubled ;  but  now  a 
gleam  of  light  shot  through  the  gloom. 

"  Mr.  Tibbetts,"  he  said,  "  I  have  spoken  only  in  answer  to 
your  questions ;  and  now  I  will  answer  you  again,  as  becom- 
ingly as  I  can.  After  Job's  aged  friends  had  talked  with  him 
in  his  affliction,  and  proved  such  wretched  comforters,  —  as 
you  perhaps  remember,  for  the  story  occurs  in  the  book  by 
which  you  profess  to  shape  your  life,  —  then  a  youth  named 
Elihu,  who  had  been  listening  respectfully  to  their  arguments, 


A    BLOW    AT    THE    BUBBLING    RUN.  321 

was  moved  to  speak.  '  I  am  young,'  he  said,  '  and  ye  are  very 
old ;  wherefore  I  was  afraid,  and  durst  not  show  you  mine 
opinion.  I  said  Days  should  speak,  and  multitude  of  years 
should  teach  wisdom.  But  there  is  a  spirit  in  man,  and  the 
inspiration  of  the  Almighty  giveth  them  understanding.'  " 

As  William  finished,  the  troubled  look  was  gone,  and  his 
countenance  shone.  There  was  a  cackle  of  delight  at  the 
gate,  and  a  glance  in  that  direction  showed  him  old  Carolus, 
leaning  on  his  stick,  and  peering  with  sharp  features  from 
between  furred  cloak  and  cap.  There  was  also  a  murmur  of 
satisfaction  among  the  men;  and  the  deacon  was  thrown  into 
some  confusion, 

"  Do  you  claim  that   you  ha\e  that  sperit  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  I  claim  nothing  peculiar  to  myself,"  William  replied. 
'"There  is  a  spirit  in  man.'  While  we  are  in  the  midst  of 
this  clamor  and  jostling  for  money  and  place,  its  voice  is  not 
heard.     But  the  soul  at  peace  perceives  it." 

'•What  do  you  mean  by  a  soul  at  peace  ?  "  the  deacon  asked, 
anxious  to  draw  the  young  man  on  to  commit  himself  to  some 
heresy. 

"  He  who  has  reached  within  himself  the  conviction  that 
there  is  a  Spiritual  Power  in  the  world,  working  in  all  things 
with  love  and  righteousness,  and  most  wonderfully  in  man ; 
and  who  is  joyfully  content  to  be  one  with  that  Power,  — he 
has  a  soul  at  peace." 

"  Deacon  himself  couldn't  have  answered  his  own  conun- 
drum so  well  as  that!  "  cackled  old  Carolus  at  the  gate.  "  Hit 
him    agin,  Deacon  !  " 

Not  finding  the  young  man's  theolog)'  so  vulnerable  as  he 
had  hoped,  the  deacon  thought  best  to  hit  in  a  different  direc- 
tion. 

"You  don't  believe  in  making  money,  I  've  been  told." 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  said  William,  "  if  it   can   be  made  with  right 
motives,    and  in  the  right  way.     But    crafty    schemes,   drag- 
21 


322  farnell's  folly. 

netting  society  for  gain,  taking  in  poor  gudgeons,"  —  Will 
looked  round  at  his  fellow-workmen,  —  "they  are  another 
thing." 

"You've  got  it  agin,  Deacon,"  squeaked  old  Carolus, 
"  right  where  Joab  smote  Abner,  under  the  fifth  rib.  You 
see,  I  know  Scriptur'  as  well  as  the  rest  of  ye.  Hi,  hi,  hi ! 
damned  if  I  don't !  " 

Tibbetts,  now  a  good  deal  nettled,  was  trying  to  think  up 
some  scathing  retort,  when  Solomon  Tompkins  hastened  to 
his  relief. 

"  Young  man,"  said  he  sternly,  "  do  you  venture  to  call 
an  enterprise  got  up  by  Mr.  Daskill,  and  one  in  which  Mr. 
Fenway  is  so  largely  interested,  a  crafty  scheme  for  drag- 
netting  society  ? " 

"  As  for  Mr.  Fenway,"  William  replied,  "  you  know  as  well 
as  I  do  that  he  has  had  mighty  little  to  do  with  it." 

"  And  as  for  Mr.  Daskill,"  struck  in  Tibbetts,  who  had  now 
found  the  sharp  thing  he  had  been  hunting  for,  "  we  all  know 
that  William  has  a  spite  against  him,  and  the  reason  why." 
He  turned  to  the  workmen.  "  Don't  let  that  influence  you, 
boys,  in  a  matter  of  business  like  this.  We  all  see  where  his 
shoe  pinches." 

William  was  silent  for  a  moment.  It  was  by  this  time  grow- 
ing dark  in  the  yard. 

"  One  word,  Mr.  Tibbetts,"  he  said.  "  You  will  remember 
that  I  did  not  begin  this  discussion.  And  I  don't  wish  to 
make  any  other  reply  to  your  last  remark,  except  to  call  these 
men  to  witness  that,  spite  or  no  spite  on  my  part,  I  have  never 
before  spoken  a  word  to  influence  them  in  the  matter  of  the 
Bubbling  Run  investments.  All  I  have  said,  I  have  said  here 
and  now,  in  your  presence.  I  might  say  a  good  deal  more, 
but  I  shall  not,  unless  my  opinion  is  asked;  then  I  shall  feel 
bound  to  give  it.  Excuse  me,  gentlemen,  I  want  to  lock  this 
gate." 


A    BLOW    AT   THE    BUBBLING   RUN.  323 

"  Wait  a  jiffy,  Rayburn  ! "  spoke  up  one  of  the  men.  "  I  'm 
one  of  them  that  has  talked  of  taking  shares  in  the  ile 
spec'lation.  As  you  say,  you  've  never  blowed  on  it  to  us 
before;  but  I've  felt  ail  the  time  you  had  a  notion  about  it, 
and  I  'd  like  to  know,  for  one,  what  it  is,  and  why  you  don't 
recommend  us  to  go  into  it." 

"  Simply  because  it  is  a  speculation.  It  may  turn  out  to 
be  profitable  to  those  who  have  got  it  up  ;  perhaps  also  to 
those  who  buy  into  it  now.  Profitable  in  a  money  sense,  I 
mean.  But  there  is  a  risk  about  it.  Laboring  men  like  you 
can't  afford  to  take  any  risk.  Nine  speculations  out  of  ten 
—  I  might  almost  say  ninety-nine  out  of  a  hundred  —  prove  dis- 
astrous to  those  who  are  led  into  them.  They  are  lotteries,  in 
which  only  now  and  them  a  prize  is  taken.  They  not  only 
rob  the  poor  of  their  earnings,  but  of  their  peace  of  mind. 
They  cause  feverish  excitement,  and  foster  a  spirit  of 
gambling.  They  make  you  discontented  with  slow,  safe,  and 
honest  gains.  As  far  as  I  can  learn,"  William  added,  with 
energy,  "this  Bubbling  Run  business  is  doing  more  just  now 
to  corrupt  the  morals  of  this  community  than  all  its  horse- 
jockeying  and  rum-selling." 

"  By  Jehoshaphat !  that 's  good !  "  shrieked  old  Carolus, 
striking  the  ground  with  his  staff. 

"You  forget  some  ver}^  good  men  are  active  in  it,"  said  the 
deacon  solemnly. 

"  I  don't  know  of  any,"  William  replied,  coolly  regarding 
him. 

"What !"'  cried  Tompkins,  "do  you  think  Deacon  Tibbetts 
there  —  I  won't  say  anything  about  myself  —  would  give  his 
influence  to  the  enterprise  without  he  believed — I  may  say 
knew  —  it  was  a  sound  one  ?  " 

William  smiled,  as  he  stood  leaning  on  the  gate. 

"  Why,  yes,  —  since  you  ask  me  the  question,  —  I  think 
either  of  you  capable  of  doing  it  for  a  consideration." 


3^4  FA  knell's  folly. 

The  boys  laughed.  Old  Carolus  choked  with  glee,  and 
went  into  spasms  of  coughing,  and  laughter,  and  chuckling 
oaths.     Tibbetts  was  stifling  with  wrath. 

"This  is  outrageous!  this  is  libellous!  it  is  actionable!" 
he  exclaimed.  "  What  reason  have  you  to  think  that  I  am 
giving  my  influence  for  a  consideration.?" 

"  A  little  bird  came  and  told  me,"  replied  William. 

"You'd  better  not  repeat  what  the  little  bird  says,"  cried 
Tibbetts  threateningly. 

"Very  well.  Ask  me  no  questions  and  I'll  tell  you  no 
truths." 

The  boys  were  tickled  again  at  the  unexpected  turn  Will 
gave  to  the  proverbial  saying. 

"I  will  ask  you  one  question,"  cried  Tibbetts,  carried  away 
by  his  passion,  "and  I  demand  to  know  what  reason  you 
have  for  asserting  that  I  have  sold  myself  for  a  bribe." 

"  You  are  translating  what  I  said  into  pretty  rough  lan- 
guage," returned  Will.  "  But  never  mind.  You  claim  that 
your  action  in  talking  up  Bubbling  Run  is  wholly  disinter- 
ested." 

"  Entirely  so." 

"  You  don't  expect  to  make  a  profit  out  of  these  boys,  if 
you  can  induce  them  to  buy  ?  " 

"  Not  a  cent." 

"Are  you  so  benevolent  a  man  as  that,  Mr.  Tibbetts, 
to  spend  your  time  in  going  about,  laboring  to  induce  peo- 
ple to  buy  shares  in  which  you  have  no  interest  ?  You 
have  lived  in  this  community  a  good  many  years,  and  you 
have  never  been  much  suspected  of  being  that  kind  of  man." 

"  I  acknowledge,"  said  Tibbetts,  seeing  that  he  was  in  a 
corner  and  must  get  out  of  it,  "  that  I  am  under  some  obliga- 
tions to  Mr.  Daskill." 

"  Ho  !  he  does  acknowledge  that  I  "  cried  one  of  the  boys. 
"  That  is  where  his  shoe  pinches !  " 


A    BLOW    AT   THE    BUBBLING    RUN.  ^2$ 

Tibbetts  found  its  necessary  to  explain  still  further. 

"  Obligations  of  a  personal  character.  Mr.  Daskill  took 
me  and  Mr.  Tompkins  out  to  the  oil  regions,  showed  us  the 
property,  and  behaved  like  a  gentleman.  I  think  anybody 
who  had  seen  the  property,  as  we  did,  would  have  felt  inter- 
ested to  talk  it  up.  It  is  certainly  the  most  splendid  oppor- 
tunity for  safe  investment  wdth  a  prospect  of  large  returns." 

He  was  going  on  with  his  prospectus,  when  William 
stopped  him. 

"  The  boys  have  heard  all  that  before.  Mr.  Daskill  paid 
your  expenses,  did  n't  he  ?  "  As  Tibbetts  and  Tompkins  had 
on  various  occasions  boasted  that  the  trip  didn't  cost  them  a 
cent,  the  deacon  was  forced  to  answer  affirmatively.  "  Yes," 
William  continued  ;  '"  that  is  the  usual  way  such  things  are 
managed.  Mr.  Daskill  was  sowing  a  little  seed  in  expecta- 
tion of  a  harvest.  Then  he  favored  you  in  the  purchase  of 
shares." 

"  Ver}^  little,"  cried  Tompkins. 

"In  fact,  none  at  all,"  added  Tibbetts.  "We  were  the 
first  purchasers ;  and  of  course  we  bought  at  the  lowest 
figger." 

"  How  many  shares  have  you,  and  what  have  they  cost 
you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  as  it  is  necessary  to  go  into  particulars." 

"  Have  you  paid  one  dollar  in  cash  towards  the  shares  you 
have  bought  ?  "  William  asked. 

"  Good  as  cash,"  said  Tompkins. 

"  Yes,  same  thing,"  said  Tibbetts. 

"  You  give  your  ser\ices  in  talking  up  the  speculation," 
said  William,  with  the  positiveness  of  a  sudden  strong  con- 
viction which  came  to  him  as  he  spoke.  "  And  you  have  given 
Mr.  Daskill  your  promissory-notes.  Those  notes  are  to  be  paid 
out  of  the  dividends  the  stock  is  expected  to  yield ;  so  that 
you  really  take  no  risk,  and  the  shares  do  not  cost   you  a 


326  farnell's  folly. 

dollar.     You  are  to  have  more  on  the  same  terms,   as  you 
induce  other  people  to  subscribe." 

Will  had  struck  so  near  the  truth  that  the  two  advocates  of 
Daskill's  scheme  stood  confounded. 

"It  amounts,  then,  to  just  this,"  he  went  on.  "You  are 
trying  to  persuade  these  hard-working  men  to  take  risks 
which  you  would  n't  take,  and  pay  money  for  stock  for  which 
you  have  n't  paid  the  first  dollar.  So  much  for  your  disinter- 
estedness." 

It  was  necessary  for  them  to  say  something.  But,  not 
knowing  what  proof  Will  had  to  support  his  assertions,  they 
could  not  venture  to  challenge  them. 

"  Do  you  dare  — "  began  Tibbetts,  trembling  between 
anger  and  confusion. 

"Yes!"  exclaimed  Tompkins,  assuming  a  good  deal  of 
bluster,  "  do  you  dare,  young  man,  to  impeach  our  honesty  ?  " 

"  It  does  n't  require  much  daring  to  do  that,"  William 
replied  in  a  tone  of  kindness  and  candor.  "  I  don't  mean  to 
be  unjust  to  either  of  you ;  but  you  compel  me  to  be  very 
plain.  No  doubt  you  flatter  yourselves  that  your  conduct  is 
justifiable  by  the  common  standard  of  business  morality. 
But  I  tell  you,  no  transaction  is  justifiable  in  which  a  man 
gains  an  advantage  over  another  by  underhand  dealing.  The 
business  morality  which  permits  that,  though  it  may  wear  the 
garb  of  respectability,  is  the  same  as  that  by  \v'hich  thieves 
and  robbers  quiet  their  consciences." 

"  Mr.  Fenway,"  Deacon  Tibbetts  cried  out  excitedly,  "  can 
you  stand  by  and  hear  a  young  fellow  in  your  employ  talk  in 
that  way  to  —  to  respectable  townspeople  }  " 

Will  turned,  and  beheld  in  the  office  door  the  tall  form  of 
Miles,  who  had  evidently  been  hearing  every  word  he  said. 

Mr.  Fenway  hesitated  before  answering ;  and  when  his 
voice  was  heard,  it  betrayed  profound  emotion. 

"  I  can't  say  that  I  approve  of  all  his  talk,  but  I  have  been 


A    BLOW    AT    IHF.    BUBBLING    RUN.  327 

interested  in  it.  And  I  have  taken  a  good  deal  of  it  to 
myself.  I  haven't  the  strong  feeling  against  the  Bubbling 
Run  project  which  he  has  ;  yet  he  has  convinced  me  that  I 
have  done  wrong  to  lend  my  name  to  it  in  a  way  which  may 
have  induced  others  to  take  risks  in  it.  I  never  meant  to  do 
that ;  the  thing  was,  in  fact,  done  almost  without  my  knowl- 
edge and  consent.  But  I  blame  myself.  And  I  must  say, 
Mr.  Tibbetts,  I  have  been  annoyed  by  the  persistency  with 
which  you  have  been  urging  my  men  here  to  take  stock.  It 
is  n't  right,  though  your  motives  may  not  be  so  bad  as  he  says. 
Now  I  think  the  discussion  had  better  stop.  You  have  rather 
forced  him  into  it ;  and  it  does  n't  look  as  though  you  would 
gain  much  by  continuing  it." 

Messrs.  Tibbetts  and  Tompkins  seemed  to  be  of  the  same 
opinion.  They  presently  went  off  together,  and  the  crowd 
dispersed.     Old  Carolus  lingered  while  \\"\\[   swung  the  gate. 

"You've  hit  the  Bubbling  Run  the  hardest  blow  yet!"  he 
chuckled,  shaking  his  staff.  "  Ye  did  that  when  ye  hit  the 
deacons.  Drag-netting  society  with  their  crafty  scheme  to 
ketch  poor  gudgeons, — hi,  hi!  Ye  had  'em  there!  By 
Jehosh  !  ye  had  'em  there  !  " 

So  saying  the  old  man  jerked  the  wires,  so  to  speak,  of  his 
rickety  anatomy,  sprung  the  joints  of  his  legs,  stabbed  the 
sidewalk  with  his  stick,  and  went  cackling  and  shambling 
away. 

Will  locked  the  gate  on  the  inside,  and  went  into  the  office. 
Mr.  Fenway  was  there.  It  was  getting  too  dark  for  the  two 
to  read  each  other's  features,  and  Miles  grasped  the  younger 
man's  hand  without  a  word.     But  they  understood  each  other. 


328  farnell's  folly. 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 


A    RUPTURE. 


The  news  of  Will's  encounter  with  the  two  worthies  in  the 
factory  yard  spread  through  the  village  like  the  proverbial 
wildfire.     On  his  way  home,  he  met  Ward  Farnell. 

"Well,  William,  what  have  you  been  up  to?"  said  the  old 
man,  in  high  spirits.  "  Holding  out  Tompkins  and  Tibbetts 
at  arm's  length,  and  bumping  their  heads  together  ?  Good 
enough  for  'em  !  The  oil  speculation  is  the  biggest  humbug 
going ;  and  you  told  the  truth  when  you  called  'em  crafty 
scoundrels,  drag-netting  society  to  haul  in  silly  gudgeons." 

"  I  have  heard  of  your  expressing  a  different  opinion  of  the 
speculation,"  remarked  Will. 

Perhaps  Ward  Farnell  did  not  remember  the  hours  he  had 
spent  with  the  loungers  in  Daskill's  store  and  on  the  tavern 
steps  counting  the  fortunes  that  might  be  made  out  of  the 
Bubbling  Run.  At  any  rate,  now  that  the  thing  had  got  one 
kick,  he  took  pleasure  in  giving  it  another. 

"  Oh !  you  may  have  heard  of  my  saying  that  there  were 
fortunes  in  oil,  as  we  know  there  are.  I  had  a  splendid  plan 
in  my  head,  all  ready  to  put  into  operation,  when  Daskill  took 
the  wind  out  of  my  sails.  He  has  got  a  good  idea ;  but  the 
best  idea  will  fail  without  agood  manager,  —  a  good  manager, 
Ward  Farnell  repeated,  with  an  emphasis  and  gesture  which 
indicated  where  the  required  article  might  be  found.  "  Daskill, 
as  we  all  know,  is  a  mere  bag  of  wind;  and  Tompkins  and 
Tibbetts  are  just  what  you  called  'em,  —  crafty  scoundrels  and 
hypocrites ! " 


A    RUPTURE. 


3^9 


Will  was  careful  to  explain  that  he  had  never  called  them 
anything  of  the  sort.  He  hoped  to  stop  such  false  reports 
then  and  there.  But  a  good-sounding  phrase  with  a  piquant 
personal  application  have  a  very  relishing  quality  for  the 
average  rural  intelligence  ;  and  what  he  had  really  said  was 
sure  to  be  repeated,  with  a  hundred  exaggerations. 

The  Bubbling  Run  engrossed  so  large  a  share  of  the  public 
interest,  Adolphus  was  just  then  so  popular,  and  the  afore- 
mentioned worthies  were  so  well  known  in  the  communit}', 
that  the  affair  caused  a  great  excitement.  Those  who  had 
kept  out  of  the  speculation  were  delighted,  and  those  who  had 
gone  into  it  alarmed.  The  Wetherspuns  were  panic-stricken, 
and  little  Wetherspun  rushed  around  town,  with  his  hat  on 
the  back  of  his  head,  tr)-ing  in  vain  to  find  somebody  to  take 
his  stock  off  his  hands.  The  demand  for  shares  had  sud- 
denly ceased.  This  state  of  things  brought  Mr.  Daskill  into 
his  father-in  law's  counting-room  early  one  forenoon.  He 
looked  black  at  Will,  who  was  at  the  desk,  and  asked  for  INIr. 
Fenway. 

"  He  is  in  the  shop.     I  will  speak  to  him,"  said  \\'ill  civilly. 

He  went  out,  and  the  long-limbed  Miles  came  in. 

"  What  is  all  this  I  hear  ?  "  said  Adolphus.  "  Coming  back 
from  the  oil  regions,  where  I  've  been  for  a  few  days,  I  'm 
astounded  at  certain  reports  which  are  calculated  to  do  us 
great  injur}-." 

"  What  reports  ?  "  Miles  asked,  his  tall  and  rather  awkward 
figure,  hairy  throat,  bare  arms,  and  leather  apron  appearing 
loosel}'  picturesque,  in  comparison  with  his  son-in-law"s  dash- 
ing style.  His  earnest,  honest,  clear,  open  countenance 
showed  also  in  striking  contrast  with  the  other's  features,  in 
their  dark-purple  flush. 

"About  the  row  in  your  yard  the  other  night,  when  one  of 
your  men  made  scandalous  and  abusive  remarks,  aimed  at  our 
enterprise,  and  particularly  at  me." 


330  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

*'  You  mean  Will  Rayburn  ? ''  said  Miles. 

"  Yes  ;  the  fellow  who  was  turned  out  of  my  store  last  spring. 
I  was  a  good  deal  surprised  when  I  learned  that  you  had  taken 
him  in  here,  and  I  must  say  amazed  when  I  heard  that  you 
indorsed  what  he  said  of  me  and  my  business." 

"What  did  you  hear  that  he  said.-*  " 

"  That  I  was  doing  more  to  corrupt  the  morals  of  the  com- 
munity than  all  the  horse-jockeys  and  rum-sellers,  and  that 
my  enterprise  was  a  rascally  scheme,  drag-netting  society  for 
gudgeons." 

"And  that  I  indorsed  all  that  ?  " 

"  1  have  it,  on  good  authority,  that  you  did,"  said  Adolphus, 
with  ofifensive  and  overbearing  positiveness. 

Miles  remained  silent  for  a  moment,  looking  him  full  in  the 
face  ;  then  said,  in  a  straightforward,  sincere  manner,  — 

"  I  shall  be  very  sorry  to  have  any  misunderstanding  Avith 
you,  Mr.  Daskill.  But  it  seems  to  me  you  don't  come  here  in 
just  the  right  spirit,  making  assertions  as  if  you  thought  I  was 
a  man  to  play  one  part  behind  your  back  and  another  to  your 
face.  If  you  want  to  get  at  the  truth  of  the  matter,  I  claim 
that  I  am  as  good  authority  for  it  as  anybody  who  has  gone 
to  you  and  prejudiced  your  mind  in  advance." 

"Pardon  me,"  said  Adolphus,  lowering  his  tone  somewhat. 
"  I  suppose  I  may  have  been  a  little  excited.  I  don't  believe 
you  capable  of  misstating  the  matter,  and  I  should  like  to 
know,  from  your  own  lips,  if  you  did  indorse  him." 

"  In  the  first  place,  William  Rayburn  did  not  say  just  what 
you  have  been  told  he  did.  In  the  next  place,  I  did  not  ap- 
prove of  all  he  said,  as  I  openly  declared  at  the  time.  But  I 
thought  much  of  it  was  just,  and  I  took  a  large  share  of  it  to 
myself.  Whatever  else  may  be  said  of  him,  he  is  a  person  of 
very  strong  and  accurate  moral  perceptions,  and  he  opened 
my  eyes  to  the  wrong  of  some  things  which  I  had  been  too 
careless  about.     I  said  that  my  name  and  influence  had  been 


A    RUPTURE.  331 

given   to    Bubbling  Run   almost  Avithout  my  knowledge  and 
consent,  and  that  I  had  done  wrong  to  permit  it." 

"  But  don't  you  see,"  said  Adolphus,  "  such  admissions  as 
that  must  be  ver\'  damaging  to  tlie  enterprise  ?  " 

"  Possibly.  But  it  is  the  fact.  I  was  never  pleased  with 
the  way  in  which  my  name  was  connected  with  the  afifair,  and 
I  thought  I  let  you  know  it  plainly  enough.  The  truth  is,  you 
and  my  wife  had  your  way  about  it  in  spite  of  me.  I  was  too 
easy.  Now  I  am  going  to  resign  my  position  as  vice-president 
and  director,  and  not  appear  to  have  anything  more  to  do  with 
the  company  than  I  actually  have." 

"You  will  do  a  very  unwise  and  injurious  thing,  at  this 
time,"  said  Adolphus.  "  I  have  just  come  from  the  oil  regions. 
Ever)-thing  is  progressing  finely.  We  have  already  struck  a 
small  vein  of  gas  and  oil,  and  are  now  going  deeper  for  a 
larger  one.     The  prospect  never  was  so  flattering." 

"  Then  it  seems  to  me  that  you  can  well  afford  to  dispense 
with  the  small  local  support  you  get  from  the  use  of  my  name. 
It  is  a  deceptive  support,  and  I  am  determined  not  to  lend  it 
any  longer." 

"  But  consider  the  interests  of  those  who  have  already  been 
induced  to  go  into  the  speculation." 

"  If  it  is  a  good  thing,  their  interests  will  not  suffer  by  my 
withdrawal.  If  it  is  a  bad  thing,  I  don't  wish  to  be  the  means 
of  inducing  others  to  go  into  it." 

Finding  remonstrance  in  vain,  Daskill  once  more  changed 
his  tone,  expressing  his  astonishment  that  Mr.  Fenway  should 
have  stood  by  and  heard  one  of  his  hired  men  publicly  de- 
nounce the  scheme.  Miles  answered  by  quoting,  as  correctly 
as  possible,  Will's  words.     Adolphus  was  not  pacified. 

"  It  was  your  duty,  sir,"  he  exclaimed  arrogantly,  "  to  repu- 
diate them  on  the  spot.  And  now  I  shall  consider  it  an  act 
of  unfriendliness  towards  me  if  you  keep  him  another  hour 
in  your  employ." 


332  FARNELLS    FOLLY. 

Both  men  had  remained  standing,  but  now  Miles  eased  his 
long,  lank  form  down  on  a  packing-box,  placed  one  leg  delib- 
erately ov^er  the  other,  crossed  his  hands  on  the  leather  apron 
covering  his  knee,  looked  at  his  dangling  boot  a  moment  with 
a  curiously  amused  and  melancholy  expression,  then  raised  his 
eyes  and  once  more  gazed  fixedly  at  Adolphus. 

"You  are  waiting  for  something?  "  he  said  at  last. 

"  I  am  waiting  for  your  reply,"  said  Mr.  Daskill,  imperi- 
ously. 

"Mr.  Daskill,"  Miles  rejoined,  "related  as  we  are,  —  hav- 
ing given  the  happiness  of  my  dearest  child  into  your  keeping, 
—  I  am  grieved  that  there  should  be  any  trouble  between  us." 

"So  am  I,  sir,"  said  Adolphus;  "and  I  expect  you  to  give 
me  a  satisfactory'  answer." 

"  When  you  come  to  reflect  calmly  upon  w^hat  has  passed 
between  us,"  returned  the  father-in-law,  with  an  almost  spirit- 
ual sweetness  and  sincerity,  "  I  trust  you  will  see  the  impro- 
priety of  your  manner  towards  me.  Then  I  shall  be  glad  to 
talk  with  you.  But  now,  when  you  take  upon  yourself  to  en- 
lighten me  as  to  my  duty,  and  declare  that  you  will  regard  it 
as  an  act  of  unfriendliness  towards  you  if  I  do  not  commit 
an  act  of  injustice  towards  another,  I  have  no  reply  to 
make." 

Thereupon  Adolphus  turned  on  his  heel  and  walked  out  of 
the  shop. 

Miles  was  still  sitting  on  the  box,  holding  his  hands  clasped 
on  the  leather  apron  over  his  knee,  and  looking  at  his  dang- 
ling boot,  plunged  in  profound  melancholy,  when  Will  came 
back.     The  young  man's  face  was  full  of  anxious  foreboding. 

"  Is  it  a  rupture  ?  "  he  said. 

"It  looks  like  it,"  Miles  answered,  and  in  a  few  words  re- 
lated what  had  taken  place. 

"  Why  must  I  always  be  getting  myself  or  others  into 
trouble  ? "  Will  exclaimed  bitterly.     "  I  'd  rather  never  have 


A    RUPTURE.  333 

come  into  your  shop  than  that  you  and  Mr.  Daskill  should 
quarrel.     I  'd  rather  leave  it  this  moment —  and  I  will !  " 

"  No,  no  !  you  won't  do  any  such  thing,"  Mr.  Fenway  an- 
swered kindly.  "  Some  of  your  remarks  the  other  night  were 
indiscreet.  But  I  don't  hold  j^ou  to  blame.  What  you  said 
was  all  true  enough,  no  doubt,  though  I  was  sorr)',  for  one 
thing,  that  you  should  have  undertaken  to  tell  how  Tibbetts 
and  Tompkins  came  by  their  stock,  without  knowing  more 
about  it." 

"  I  don't  know  why  I  did,"  said  Will ;  "  but  the  conviction 
came  to  me  so  clear  and  strong  I  could  n't  help  uttering  it. 
I  seemed  to  look  into  the  minds  of  those  two  men  and  see 
the  whole  transaction." 

He  was  rapt  in  a  silent  and  abstracted  mood  for  a  minute 
or  so.     Then  he  said,  impressively,  — - 

"  I  spoke  of  taking  myself  away  to  end  this  trouble.  But 
my  going  would  not  end  it,  as  my  being  here  did  not  cause  it. 
In  the  ver}'  nature  of  things,  it  was  inevitable.  And  more  is 
to  come.  Instead  of  going  away  in  order  to  be  of  service  to 
you,  I  am  to  be  of  service  to  you  by  staying  here." 

"  I  believe  that,"  said  Miles,  still  in  deep  melancholy. 
And  he  added  with  a  sigh,  "  Poor  Marian  !  I  would  n't  mind 
if  it  was  n't  for  her," 


334  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

HOW    THE    HEAD    CLERK'S    CRAVAT   GOT   AWRY. 

The  two  men  were  still  conversing  when  Mr.  Emmons,  from 
the  store,  entered,  —  literally  rushed  in,  —  looking  pale  and 
excited.  Mr.  Fenway  gave  a  start  of  unpleasant  surprise,  ex- 
pecting some  belligerent  message  from  his  son-in-law.  Wil- 
liam, who,  since  his  dismissal  from  the  store,  had  never  spoken 
with  the  head  clerk,  turned  and  faced  him  with  a  kindly,  in- 
quiring glance.  The  man  could  hardly  speak  for  passion. 
His  heart  beat  in  his  voice  as  he  breathlessly  demanded,  — 

"  Will  you  step  over  to  the  store  ?  " 

"I?     What  for?"  said  W^ill. 

"  To  oblige  me  —  to  do  me  justice,"  replied  the  trembling 
visitor. 

"  In  what  way  ?  "  asked  Will.  "  I  am  not  aware  that  I 
ever  did  you  injustice.  On  the  contrary,  I  have  a  pretty 
clear  recollection  of  having  once  suffered  injustice  at  your 
hands." 

"  William,"  said  Emmons,  leaning  on  the  desk,  and  me- 
chanically fingering  a  paper-weight  with  shaking  digits,  "you 
were  not  treated  right.  But  I  could  n't  help  it.  I  had  posi- 
tive orders  from  Mr.  Daskill  to  discharge  you  in  his  absence. 
I  was  to  make  your  lameness  a  pretext,  if  no  better  could  be 
invented.  You  saw  through  it ;  and  I  was  willing  you  should," 
the  man  went  on,  talking  very  glibly  now  that  he  had  got  his 
breath.  "  He  's  an  unscrupulous  man,  and  a  perfect  despot. 
I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Fenway,"  said  poor  Emmons,  at  sight 


HOW  THE  HEAD  CLERK's  CRAVAT  GOT  AWRY.   335 

of  Miles  on  ihe  box,  having  at  first  quite  overlooked  him  in 
his  excitement. 

"  There  's  no  occasion,"  Mr.  Fenway  answered  dryly. 
"You  needn't  spoil  a  story  for  relation's  sake,  I'm  glad, 
for  one,  to  have  some  things  explained." 

"  I  don't  mean  to  say  anything  disrespectful  of  Mr. 
Daskill,"  Emmons  resumed,  with  a  relapse  into  his  constitu- 
tional timidity,  out  of  which  his  passion  had  temporarily 
hurried  him,  "but  his  conduct  is  sometimes  very  arbitrary  — 
unreasonable  —  singular,  to  say  the  least,"  he  added,  trim- 
ming his  phrase  for  the  father-in-law  market.  "He  has 
treated  me  often  in  a  way  which  human  flesh  and  blood  could 
hardly  endure.  I  don't  say  but  that  he  is  a  gentleman  in  his 
dress  and  manners,  and  a  very  remarkable  man  in  other 
things;  but  when  he  uses  language  which  implies  that 
his  head  clerk  is  a  confirmed  idiot  and  damned  fool,  you 
will  agree  with  me  that  it  is  what  few  head  clerks  could 
stand."' 

"  I  should  say  so,"  replied  Miles,  without  a  trace  of  humor 
or  sarcasm  in  his  earnest  look  and  frank,  emphatic  tone. 
'*  Few  besides  you,  Mr,  Emmons," 

"  I  have  stood  it,  and  almost  bit  my  tongue  off  at  times  to 
keep  from  returning  him  as  good  as  he  gave.     But  just  now, 

—  not  twenty  minutes  ago,  —  when  he  came  into  the  counting- 
room  in  one  of  his  worst  moods,  and  took  me  by  the  throat, 

—  yes,  sir,  actually  throttled  me!"  —  the  head  clerk  showed 
his  necktie  still  awr}%  bearing  testimony  to  the  unpleasant 
circumstance,  —  "  and  called  me  an  infernal  traitor,  it  was  too 
much  !  it  was  too  much  !  I  had  to  answer  back." 

"What  did  you  say?" 
"  I  told  him  he  —  he  —  was  mistaken." 
"That  was  strong  language,"  said  Miles. 
"  It  was  bold  language  to  use  to  a  man  like  Mr.  Daskill," 
said   the   w^hite   and  trembling  Emmons.     "  And    I   further 


33^  farnell's  folly. 

requested  him  not  to  do  me  a  personal  injury.  Then,  as  he 
thrust  me  to  the  wall,  I  informed  him  that  I  should  certainly 
look  to  the  law  for  redress,  if  he  did  n't  desist.  I  also  avowed 
my  intention  to  yell.  He  unhanded  me;  but  he  was  still 
violent  in  his  language,  giving  the  lie  to  every  word  I  said. 
Fearing  he  was  about  to  get  me  in  a  corner  again,  —  for  I 
could  see  another  fit  of  fury  coming  on,  —  I  took  my  hat  and 
ran  out.  I  suppose  I  have  lost  the  place,"  the  head  clerk 
concluded  dejectedly. 

"  No  great  loss,  I  should  say,"  replied  William.  "  I  did  n't 
envy  you  when  I  left  the  store  and  you  remained.  What  is  it 
I  can  do  for  you  now?  " 

"  Step  over  and  tell  Mr.  Daskill  you  didn't  get  from  me 
your  information  as  to  how  Tibbetts  and  Tompkins  bought 
their  stock." 

"  Who  says  I  did  ?  " 

"  He  does.  That 's  the  trouble.  He  accuses  me  of  over- 
hauling his  private  papers  and  looking  up  the  Tibbetts  and 
Tompkins  notes.  He  says  the  matter  was  a  secret  between 
him  and  them ;  they  have  never  divulged  it,  and  they  felt 
aggrieved,  thinking  he  had.  And  now,  as  I  am  the  only  person 
besides  himself  who  has  access  to  the  safe,  he  accuses  me.  I 
am  a  spy,  a  traitor,  an  ingrate,  and  I  can't  remember  what 
else.  It  will  be  a  great  satisfaction  to  me  to  know,  and  to 
have  him  know,  just  how  you  did  get  your  information." 

"  It  was  n't  information.  Call  it  a  good  guess.  I  knew  how 
such  services  were  sometimes  bought,  and  I  saw  it  in  the  men's 
eyes.  I  would  go  over  and  tell  Mr,  Daskill  so,  if  I  thought  it 
would  do  you  any  good.  But  he  would  be  all  the  more  dis- 
turbed to  find  that  you  have  been  to  me,  and  that  it  is  he,  after 
all,  who  has  given  away  his  secret." 

"  Then  what  had  I  better  do  >  "  the  man  anxiously  inquired. 

"That  depends.  If  you  think  more  oi  your  manhood  than 
of  weeks'  wages,  wade  to  the  ej^elids  through  seas  of  poverty 


HOW   THE    HEAD    CLERK  S    CRAVAT    GOT    AWRY.        337 

before  you  go  back  into  that  store.  But  if  you  care  more  for 
your  place  —  " 

"  I  can't  very  well  afford  to  lose  my  place,"  murmured  the 
miserable  head  clerk,  retying  his  cravat. 

"Then,"  said  Will  with  a  smile,  "  it  is  very  simple.  Wait 
till  he  has  had  time  to  get  over  his  anger  and  reflect  on  the 
imprudence  of  breaking  with  a  man  who  has  been  I  don't  know 
how  deep  in  his  confidence  ;  then  go  back  to  your  duties  just 
as  if  nothing  had  happened,  and  make  the  best  compromise 
between  your  manhood  and  your  weeks'  wages  you  can,"  he 
added,  giving  the  head  clerk  a  significant  light  tap  on  the 
shoulder. 

"  I  thank  you  very  much,"  said  Emmons  humbly.  "  And 
can  I  depend?"  —  he  turned  appealingly  to  Miles.  "If  he 
should  learn  that  I  have  been  here  and  spoken  so  freely,  he 
would  n't  be  able  to  make  allowance  for  the  exciting  circum- 
stances." 

"  He  will  not  know  it  from  me,"  said  Mr.  Fenway.  "  I  am 
not  sorr}^  you  came,  —  for  the  satisfaction  of  my  own  mind  on 
certain  points.     But  I  sha'n't  be  in  a  hurry  to  tell  of  it." 

"I'm  very  grateful,  I'm  sure!  And  I  suppose"  —  the 
creature  cringed  to  William  —  "I  may  rely  on  you  ? " 

"  I  can  make  no  promises,"  Will  answered,  looking  sternly 
down  upon  him,  "  except  to  do  nothing  but  what  seems  to  me 
right  and  just." 

The  head  clerk  gave  a  finishing  touch  to  his  collar  and 
cravat,  and  with  superfluous  thanks  and  apologies  withdrew. 


338  farnell's  folly 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 


A    STORM    COMING    ON. 


"  Well  !  "  said  Miles  Fenway,  after  a  brief  interval  of  reflec- 
tion, rising  from  tlie  box  with  a  cheerful  and  resolute  look, 
"  we  've  had  enough  of  that  subject :  now  to  business.  Who  is 
going  over  to  look  at  Stevenson's  lot  of  wood  this  afternoon, 
you  or  I  ?  " 

"I  think  the  best  judge  of  standing  timber  ought  to  go," 
replied  Will. 

"  You  are  just  as  good  a  judge  as  I  am,  and  you  can  get 
away  from  the  shop  better  than  I  can  to-day.  You  need  n't 
decide  anything  ;  but  just  go  over  and  examine  the  lot,  —  the 
size  of  the  trees,  whether  they  appear  sound  and  healthy, 
the  straightness  and  cleanness  of  the  stems,  the  height  of 
the  limbs  from  the  ground,  — just  look  at  those  points  partic- 
ularly with  an  eye  to  fork-handles.  I  'd  like  to  have  the  mat- 
ter attended  to  to-day,  for  it  looks  to  me  as  if  we  were  going 
to  have  a  big  storm,  and  the  roads  may  be  full  of  drifts 
to-morrow.  Start  early,  take  either  horse,  and,  as  the  boy 
said  about  the  two  roads,  you  'II  wish  you  had  taken  the 
other,"  Miles  concluded,  with  a  dash  of  his  habitual  humor. 

Will  accepted  the  commission,  and  went  home  to  dinner. 
Then  things  at  the  shop  detained  him,  and  the  afternoon 
was  well  advanced  before  he  was  ready  to  start;  but  at  last 
he  got  away. 

Hard  at  work  with  the  men.  Miles  Fenway  tried  to  forget 
the  subject  which  had  troubled  him  in  the  morning.  But  he 
had  not,  after  all,  heard  the  last  of  it  for  that  day.     Towards 


A    STORM    COMING    OX.  339 

night  old  Carolus  hobbled  in  on  his  three  props.  Miles 
turned  from  the  forge,  and  looked  down  upon  the  dwarf  in 
giant's  mantle,  who  planted  his  hickory  prop  firmly,  ran  his 
eyes  up  the  framework  of  the  real  giant  and  squeaked  out  in 
a  voice  pitched  to  be  heard  above  the  clatter  of  trip- 
hammers,— 

"  Miles  Fenway,  I  want  my  money  !  " 

This  was  a  rather  startling  salutation,  under  the  circum- 
stances. In  spite  of  his  best  endeavors  to  forget  it,  Miles 
had  been  thinking  intently  of  his  last  interview  with  his  son- 
in-law,  and  of  the  evil  consequences  that  might  result  from  it. 
He  was  wondering  what  he  could  do,  for  Marian's  sake,  to  heal 
the  breach,  when  here  was  presented  a  fine  prospect  for 
widening  it ;  for,  would  it  not  look  as  if  he  were  actuated  by 
motives  of  resentment  or  suspicion,  if  he  should  now,  so  soon 
after  their  quarrel,  call  on  Adolphus  for  the  money  which  he 
had  borrowed  for  him  ?  He  pushed  the  long-cloaked,  sham- 
bling figure  before  him  into  the  little  office,  and  shut  the  door. 

"Why  didn't  you  ask  for  you  money  when  it  was  due  ?" 

"  I  didn't  want  it." 

"  Neither  do  you  want  it  now." 

"  That 's  my  business,"  said  the  old  man  sharply. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Miles.  "  I  suppose  you  can  have  it  as 
well  one  time  as  another,  I  'm  only  sorr}'  you  didn't  call  for 
it  when  the  note  fell  due,  for  Mr.  Daskill  came  and  ofifered  it 
to  me  then."' 

"Fool  you  didn't  take  it,"  the  old  man  retorted  with  a 
harsh,  sardonic  laugh,  "  If  he  was  a  son-in-law  of  mine,  and 
oflfered  me  money  due,  grass  would  n't  grow  many  inches 
while  I  was  hesitating  about  taking  it.  Give  me  your 
check?  "  And  the  old  man  took  Mr,  Fenway's  note  from  an 
old,  greasy  pocket-book. 

"  I  shall  have  to  get  Mr.  Daskill's  check  first.  Will  you 
go  over  to  the  store  with  me  !  " 


340  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

"  No,  by  Jehoshaphat !  I  don't  know  Daskill.  His  check  is 
your  business.  Your  check  is  my  business.  Shall  I  have  it? 
Or  shall  I  put  your  note  into  the  bank  for  collection? " 

"  You  need  n't  do  that.  The  note  is  going  to  be  paid,  Mr. 
Carolus.  I  thought  I  would  like  to  have  Mr.  Daskill  know 
from  you  that  it  is  you,  and  not  I,  who  want  the  money." 

"  Very  well.  You  can  tell  him.  He  '11  take  your  word  for 
it.  I  have  n't  the  pleasure  of  the  man's  acquaintance.  He 
wouldn't  believe  me." 

Miles  grinned  with  grim  humor. 

*'  I  think  almost  any  man  who  hears  you  say  you  must  have 
money  that  is  owing  you  would  give  you  credit  for  meaning 
what  you  say.  It 's  after  business  hours,  and  I  can't  promise 
to  do  anything  for  you  to-night.  But  come  in  the  morning, 
and  I  've  no  doubt  but  you  '11  have  your  four  thousand  dol- 
lars." 

"Very  well !"  The  old  man  jerked  himself  around  to  the 
door,  but  paused  before  opening  it.  "Miles  Fenway,  we 've 
always  been  friends.  We  take  plain  things  from  each  other ; 
you  're  plain  with  me,  I  'm  plain  with  you.  Now  hark  'e  ! 
Mr.  What's-his-name  is  your  son-in-law,  not  mine.  If  you 
trust  him,  it 's  your  business,  not  mine.  But  take  a  hint  from 
an  old  man.  Extravagance  is  the  devil.  Mr.  What's-his- 
name  is  extravagant.  He  don't  attend  to  his  business.  He 
rides  around  too  much.  Leaves  everything  to  his  clerks. 
D — n  the  clerks  !  Has  too  many  irons  in  the  fire  ;  some  will 
burn  his  fingers,  while  the  rest  get  cold.  He  may  blunder 
into  a  fortune,  but  he  's  more  likely  to  blunder  out  of  what 
he  's  got.     Goldfinch  &  Co.  have  washed  their  hands  of  him." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  he  is  no  longer  a  partner.  They  keep  the  Buffalo 
business;  he  takes  the  business  here.  He's  too  deep  in  spec- 
ulations for  them.  That  for  his  speculations  ! "  The  old  man 
snapped  his  fingers  with  a  cackle  of  contempt.     "  Bubbling 


A    STORM    COMING    ON.  34 1 

Run  has  had  its  run.  No  stock  selling.  Through  the  s.-^nd 
rock,  and  no  ile  yet ;  only  a  little  trickle.  Wetherspun  offered 
me  his  shares  for  fifty-five  to-day.  Tibbetts  and  Tompkins 
don't  dare  show  their  faces.  Everybody  who  has  anything  to 
do  with  the  concern  is  losing  credit.  You  are  losing  credit. 
That 's  why  I  want  my  money.  I  tell  ye,  Bubbling  Run  has 
bubbled  out.  Miles  Fenway,  I  '11  take  your  check  in  the 
morning." 

As  old  Carolus  went  out,  a  gust  of  snow  blew  in.  Miles 
shut  the  door  after  him,  and  leaned  on  the  desk.  Something: 
had  taken  his  breath  away.  After  a  little  reflection  he  put  on 
his  hat  and  coat,  and  walked  over  to  the  store.  Mr.  Daskill 
had  gone  home.  So  he  was  informed  by  Mr.  Emmons,  who 
was  at  his  post  again,  but  looking  sallow  and  anxious,  and 
who  whispered,  "  He  is  still  in  an  unsettled  state  of  mind," 
aside  to  Mr.  Fenway. 

Miles  turned  back  to  the  shop,  wondering,  as  he  bent  his 
tall  form  against  the  wintry  gusts,  whether  he  had  better  go 
and  see  Marian  and  talk  with  Mr.  Daskill  that  evening,  not- 
withstanding the  storm,  and  whether  Will  was  on  his  v.ay 
home. 

Will  had  in  the  mean  time  made  an  examination  of  the  stand- 
ing timber,  and  was  about  starting  to  return  when  cries  for 
help  from  a  neighboring  wood-lot  reached  his  ears,  and  he 
tramped  over  through  the  snow  with  Farmer  Johnson  to  see 
what  was  the  matter.  The  cries  grew  louder  as  they  advanced, 
but  they  could  see  nobody  in  the  woods,  until,  reaching  the 
ver)'  spot  from  which  they  issued,  they  came  upon  a  man  lying 
in  a  little  hollow  of  the  snow,  with  both  legs  under  a  heavy 
beech  log.  He  had  been  tr}ing  to  pr}'  an  end  of  the  stick 
upon  a  rest  he  had  placed  for  it,  when,  his  hand-spike  slip- 
ping, he  was  thrown  down,  and  the  log  rolled  back  upon  him. 
Will  and  the  farmer  made  haste  to  take  him  out  of  his  trap, 
and,  finding  that  he  could  not  walk,  carried  him,  groaning  with 


342  farnell's  folly. 

pain,  to  Will's  cutter  in  the  road.  Then  Vv'ill  could  do  no  less 
than  convey  him  to  his  home,  which  was  two  miles  away,  and 
drive  for  the  nearest  doctor,  a  mile  farther.  All  this  took  time. 
Finally,  it  was  impossible  to  resist  the  urgent  solicitation  of 
the  wood-chopper's  grateful  family  that  he  would  take  a  cup 
of  tea,  and  give  his  horse  a  rest  before  starting  for  home.  As 
it  was  now  evening,  and  the  fury  of  the  storm  was  to  be  faced, 
Will  was  not  averse  to  fortifying  himself  and  his  beast  for  the 
homeward  trip  by  accepting  his  hospitality.  But  he  declined 
an  invitation  to  spend  the  night  there,  and  at  last,  with  his 
two  extra  miles  to  drive,  set  out  to  return. 

It  was  near  the  season  of  the  shortest  days.  The  wild  night 
had  pounced  down  upon  the  world  with  tempestuous  wings 
more  than  an  hour  since.  It  would  have  been  dark  but  for 
the  snow  that  covered  the  earth  and  filled  the  air.  Muffled 
to  the  nose,  with  the  storm  spitting  and  howling  in  his  face. 
Will  could  scarcely  see  the  dim  outline  of  the  horse  a  yard  or 
two  before  him,  and  could  not  hear  the  tramp  of  hoofs  in  the 
soft  track.  .  Sometimes  the  gale  was  so  fierce  and  the  snow 
came  so  fast  that  it  was  difficult  even  to  breathe. 

A  well-trodden  track  had  been  formed  in  the  earlier  falls  of 
snow,  but  it  was  filling  rapidly  with  drifts.  The  horse  had  set 
off  at  a  brisk  rate,  but  travel  grew  more  and  more  toilsome  as 
he  went  on,  so  that  the  fast  trot  soon  became  a  slow  one,  then 
slackened  to  a  floundering  walk.  Now  and  then  there  was  a 
snow-bank  that  had  to  be  wallowed  through.  In  one  such. 
Will,  who  had  left  everything  to  the  sagacity  of  the  horse,  be- 
came aware  of  a  sleigh  going  in  the  opposite  direction,  so  near 
that  the  whiffletrees  grazed  his  cutter.  Quite  independently 
of  the  drivers,  the  horse  and  the  heavy  team  had  turned  out 
for  each  other.  Once  or  twice  the  cutter  came  near  upsetting 
in  the  drifts. 

Passing  a  wayside  tavern,  the  weary  animal  turned  up  to  it, 
and  Will  would  have  been  tempted  to  take  the  hint  and  put 


A    STORM    COMING   ON.  343 

into  that  port  for  refuge,  if  the  thought  of  his  mother's  anxiety 
on  his  account,  and  the  probability  of  the  roads  being  com- 
pletely blocked  in  the  morning,  and  perhaps  for  a  day  or  two, 
had  not  prompted  him  to  go  on.  Waybrook  village  was  only 
a  mile  and  a  half  farther ;  but  what  a  mile  and  a  half ! 

"  Come,  old  fellow !  we  must  travel  while  we  can,"  said 
Will,  urging  the  poor  beast  away  from  that  inviting  haven. 

On  went  horse  and  cutter,  ploughing  through  the  drifts;  while 
the  driver,  facing  the  fury  of  the  snow-laden  blast,  scarcely 
heeded  its  violence,  but  sat  rapt  in  his  own  thoughts,  in  the 
awful  solitude  of  the  night  and  storm. 


344  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 


CHAPTER  XL. 


MARIAN  LEARNS  THE  TRUTH. 


The  ten  days  having  elapsed  which  she  had  given  Mrs. 
Chilgrove  to  find  another  abode,  JuUa  Farnell  passed  the  Folly 
one  afternoon,  and,  glancing  up  at  a  window,  was  favored  by 
that  lady  with  a  wicked  smile. 

She  went  home  in  great  trouble  of  mind,  feeling  that  her 
only  hope  of  a  peaceful  solution  of  the  difficulty  had  failed, 
and  dreading  to  take  the  next  decisive  step.  The  cold  defiance 
in  the  face  behind  the  pane  did  not  encourage  her  to  seek  a 
second  interview.  And  still  she  could  not  resolve  upon  the 
stroke  which  would  destroy  poor  Marian's  peace.  Should  she 
go  to  Marian's  mother  with  the  dreadful  secret  ?  Mrs.  Fenway 
was  almost  the  last  person  she  would  have  thought  it  wise  to 
consult.  Should  she  go  to  Lottie  ?  Lottie  was  kind-hearted 
and  faithful,  but  \\hat  could  she  do  ?  There  was  one  individual 
for  whose  sympathy  and  advice  she  ardently  longed.  That 
was  William  Rayburn. 

But  Will,  since  his  return  home,  had  shown  little  inclinal^ 
to  renew  his  intercourse  with  the  Farnells ;  Julia  had  even 
thought  that  he  sometimes  tried  to  avoid  her.  Not  a  word 
from  him  regarding  those  French  lessons.  Must  she  think 
that  it  was  only  his  love  for  Marian  which  had  once  drawn 
him  to  Marian's  friend?  That  love  lost,  was  she  nothing 
more  to  him  .''  She  would  not  therefore  approach  him  again 
on  the  subject  of  Marian's  happiness  ;  for  might  it  not  seem 
that  she  was  eager  to  draw  him  back  by  the  only  tie  which  had 
existed  between  them .'' 


MARIAN  LEARNS  THE  TRUTH.  345 

So  she  saw  Will  pass  and  repass,  and  sometimes  spoke  with 
him  casually  on  the  street;  and  all  the  while  she  carried  in 
her  heart  the  burning  secret  which  she  durst  not  impart  to 
another,  and  could  not  have  the  sole,  sad  comfort  of  sharing 
■with  him.  There  was  then  but  one  person  to  whom  she  could 
appeal,  before  going  to  Marian  herself.     That  was  Mr.  Daskill. 

One  afternoon  as  she  was  walking  down  the  declivity  below 
the  Folly,  on  her  way  home  from  the  seminary,  she  met 
Adolphus  walking  up.  He  was  usually  in  his  buggy,  driving 
fast,  when  she  saw  him  on  the  street ;  and,  though  he  always 
saluted  her  with  ostentatious  courtesy,  she  had  not  been  able 
to  catch  his  eye  with  a  glance  which  would  check  his  speed. 
Now,  however,  the  opportunity  she  waited  for  had  come. 

"  How  is  it,"  said  Adolphus,  lifting  his  hat,  "  that  I  am 
always  coming  down  the  hill  when  you  are  going  up,  and  going 
up  when  your  are  coming  down  ?  Am  I  never  to  have  the 
pleasure  of  accompanying  you?" 

"  Not  unless  you  turn  and  go  my  way,"  replied  Julia,  paus- 
ing, and  compelling  him  to  come  to  a  full  stop. 

"  I  've  often  thought  of  doing  that  when  I  have  been  driving. 
It  would  give  me  great  pleasure  sometimes  to  carry  you  home. 
But  you  declined  my  proposal  to  do  so  once." 

"  I  have  lately  wished  you  would  renew  it,"  said  Julia, 
answering  him  pleasantly,  but  with  a  serious  look  out  of  her 
lifwd,  sincere  eyes.  "  For  I  have  wanted  to  speak  to  you, 
Mr.  Daskill." 

Into  the  thick-complexioned  features  of  the  polished  man 
of  the  world  shot  the  dark-purple  flush  which  we  know,  as  he 
replied,  still  with  an  effort  at  gayety,  — 

"  You  do  me  great  honor,  Miss  Farnell.  Will  you  permit 
me  to  walk  with  you  ?  " 

"  I  thank  you,  —  no,  Mr.  Daskill.  What  I  have  to  say  will 
not  keep  us  long.  I  think  it  very  likely  that  you  know  I 
called  to  see  Mrs,  Chilgrove  a  short  time  since." 


346  farnell's  folly. 

Adolphus  called  up  all  the  easy  frankness  of  his  gentle- 
manly manner,  and  answered,  with  very  little  appearance  of 
concern,  except  as  to  the  aforesaid  flush,  — 

"  She  spoke  of  a  conversation  she  had  with  you." 

"And  of  the  contents  of  a  letter  which  I  showed  her?" 
said  Julia,  grave  and  pale. 

"Yes,  she  spoke  of  the  letter.  And  I  am  very  glad,"  said 
Adolphus,  in  his  large,  liberal  way,  "  to  correct  certain  false 
impressions  which  I  suppose  must  have  remained  with  you. 
Mrs.  Chilgrove,  I  find,  is  a  very  peculiar  w^oman ;  singularly 
good-hearted  when  her  heart  is  appealed  to,  but  perversely  — 
I  might  almost  say  recklessly  —  obstinate  when  she  is  ap- 
proached with  anything  that  seems  like  a  menace.  She 
would  not  deign  to  explain  matters  to  you,  but  left  you  to 
think  the  worst  of  her." 

"What  else  could  I  think?"  said  Julia,  "Were  not  the 
statements  in  the  letter  correct  ?  " 

"  Correct  enough  in  the  mere  outline  of  facts ;  but  wholly 
incorrect  as  to  the  inferences  drawn  from  them." 

"  You  do  not  mean  to  deny  that  you  knew  Mrs.  Chilgrove- 
Lafitte  long  before  your  first  meeting  with  Marian  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no.  She  had  charge  of  my  unfortunate  son,  and  of 
course  I  had  frequent  occasion  to  visit  her.  That  gave  rise 
to  some  slanders.  That  is  really  all  there  was  about  it.  Miss 
Farnell,"  said  Adolphus,  v>ith  a  smile  of  beautiful  candor. ' 

"Then  why  did  you  so  carefully  conceal  from  Marian  and 
her  friends  the  fact  of  your  previous  acquaintance  with  her  ?  " 

"There  had  been  a  misunderstanding  between  us,  and  I 
had  thought  it  best  to  remove  my  son  from  her  charge. 
Then,  when  w-e  chanced  to  meet  afterwards,  we  were  both 
angry,  and  did  not  care  to  recognize  each  other.  That  was  a 
mistake,  which  led  to  more  serious  ones.  We  met  again,  by 
accident,  and  there  were  mutual  explanations  ,  but  still,  re- 
membering the  old  slanders,  I  did  n't  think  it  best  that  our 


MARIAN    LEARNS    THE    TRUTH,  34/ 

friendship  should  be  renewed.  And  it  never  would  have 
been,  but  for  my  son.  No  other  person  ever  had  so  good  an 
influence  over  him,  or  understood  the  care  of  him  so  well  as 
she  ;  and  when  Marian  proposed  to  take  her  for  a  companion, 
I  said  to  myself,  '  Why  not  ? '  The  only  awkwardness  lay  in 
the  fact  that  I  had  not  acknowledged  our  previous  acquaint- 
ance. I  ought  to  have  done  it  then.  But,  Miss  Farnell,  we 
are  not  always  wise  :  and  I  fell  into  an  error.  Things  have 
now  gone  so  far  that  I  think  Marian  had  better  remain  in 
ignorance ,  but  if  you  think  otherwise,  —  why,  then,  I  can 
only  make  to  her  the  explanation  I  have   now  made  to  you." 

"Mr.  Daskill,"  said  Julia,  earnest  almost  to  tearfulness,  "I 
think,  even  at  this  late  hour,  Marian  ought  to  know  all.  That 
is,  unless  jiw/  see  fit  to  have  Mrs.  Chilgrove  quietly  retire.  In 
that  case  I  will  gladly  leave  you  to  settle  the  matter  with 
Marian  and  your  own  conscience." 

"Well,  perhaps  you  are  right,"  replied  Adolphus,  appearing 
to  yield.  "I  shouldn't  hesitate  about  it  for  a  moment,  but 
for  my  son's  sake.  She  will  be  an  irreparable  loss  to  him. 
You  know  what  Marian  is, — so  wholly  unfitted  even  to  be 
brought  into  contact  with  such  a  case  as  his.  If  she  only  had 
your  spirit,  Miss  Farnell  !  " 

Julia  felt  compelled  to  answer  this  compliment  with  the  un- 
graciousness of  downright  truth. 

"  Marian  is  like  nobody  but  herself,  —  affectionate,  delicate, 
sensitive,  but  not  fitted  either  by  constitution  or  discipline  for 
the  rude  tasks  of  life.  You  must  have  known  that  before  you 
married  her,  I  hoped  she  had  found  a  man  who  would  prize 
her  for  what  she  is,  and  care  for  her  as  we  do  for  the  tender- 
est  flowers ;  and  1  was  surprised  when  I  learned  that  she  was 
daily  obliged  to  witness  the  paroxysms  of  your  unfortunate 
son.  I  admire  your  devotion  to  him.  It  is  partly  that,  I  sup- 
pose, which  may  have  made  you  unjust  to  her  ;  for  it  must  be 
hard  for  you  to  conceive  of  another's  having  so  different  a 


348  faenell's  folly. 

feeling  for  him.  I  have  shrunk  from  speaking  of  this  to  you, 
and  now  I  trust  that  you  will  pardon  me." 

"  Certainly,  and  I  thank  you  besides,"  said  Adolphus,  in  his 
turbid  flush  again,  but  courteous  and  conciliatory.  "  I  have  n't 
meant  to  be  unjust  to  her,  and  it  has  been  for  her  sake,  as 
well  as  for  my  son's,  that  I  have  wished  to  place  some  such 
person  between  them  as  the  woman  you  think  so  objectiona- 
ble. What  am  I  to  do?  You  see,  Miss  Farnell,  I  find  myself 
in  a  difficult  position." 

"  Is,  then,  Mrs.  Chilgrove  the  only  fit  person  in  the  world 
to  take  charge  of  your  son  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no ;  but  fit  persons  for  that  place  are  not  easy  to  be 
had.  I  know  one  about  v/hom  there  would  be  no  question, — 
a  friend  of  Marian's,  and  a  lady  of  great  spirit  combined  with 
perfect  gentleness.  But  I  suppose  it  would  be  quite  impossi- 
ble to  get  her." 

"  Perhaps  not.     What  is  her  name  ?  " 

"Miss  Farnell." 

Julia  looked  up  quickly,  and  saw  the  Daskill  eyes  beaming 
upon  her  with  ardent  admiration. 

"You  are  right,"  she  answered  coldly.  "  It  will  be  as  im- 
possible to  get  her  as  it  is,  under  the  circumstances,  for  you 
to  keep  Mrs.  Chilgrove.  But  some  other  arrangement,  suita- 
ble for  all  parties,  can  no  doubt  be  made,  and  can  I  rely  upon 
you  to  make  it  as  early  as  possible  ?  " 

"  Assuredly.  I  quite  agree  with  you.  Miss  Farnell,  and  will 
do  what  I  can.  Meanwhile  I  trust  I  can  rely  upon  your  pa- 
tience and  discretion." 

"  Upon  my  discretion  —  yes.  Upon  my  patience,  too,  as 
far  as  patience  is  a  virtue.  But  I  am  altogether  in  earnest  in 
this  matter,  Mr.  Daskill." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  understand  that.  And  I  will  do  you  the  justice 
to  say  that  your  behavior  in  it  has  been  admirable,  I  shall 
leave  you  nothing  to  complain  of,  only  give  me  a  little  time." 


MARIAN    LEAKNS    THE    TRUTH.  349 

So  saying,  Aclolphus  lifted  his  hat  with  a  smile  of  perfect 
politeness,  then  turned  and  walked  on,  with  a  look  of  baffled 
rage  in  his  livid  face. 

Julia  had  all  the  while  a  strong  suspicion  that  he  was  try- 
ing to  manage  her  and  gain  time,  and  it  was  confirmed  when, 
passing  the  house  again  after  another  ten  days  had  elapsed, 
she  was  once  more  greeted,  from  behind  the  plate-glass  pane, 
by  Mrs.  Chilgrove's  placid  smile. 

During  the  interval,  Mr.  Daskill  had  carefully  avoided  meet- 
ing Miss  Farnell  on  the  street,  and  at  last  she  became  av.-are 
that  he  had  gone  out  of  town,  —  gone,  and  left  Mrs.  Chilgrove 
with  Marian.  There  was  then  but  one  thing  left  for  her  to  do. 
One  afternoon  she  rang  at  the  door  of  the  Folly  and  asked 
for  Marian. 

The  young  wife's  beautiful  face  was  wan  with  misen,-  when 
she  went  into  the  room  where  Julia  was  waiting,  at  sight  of 
whose  gentle  countenance,  full  of  sympathy  and  pity,  she  be- 
came suddenly  convulsed  with  sobs. 

Julia  led  her  to  the  sofa,  and,  holding  her  in  her  embrace, 
said,  as  a  mother  might  have  spoken  to  a  child,  — 

"  There,  there,  dear  Marian,  tell  me  all  about  it." 

"  That  woman  !  that  woman  !  "  said  Marian,  starting  up. 

"  Mrs.  Chilgrove  ?     What  about  her  ?  " 

"  I  can't  tell.  I  don't  know.  But  she  is  terrible  !  she  is 
terrible  !  Without  a  word  or  an  act  which  I  can  really  com- 
plain of,  she  is  destroying  my  happiness,  my  life.  She  almost 
makes  me  believe  in  sorcery  and  the  evil  eye." 

*•  You  must  get  rid  of  her." 

"  I  cannot.  That  is  the  trouble.  She  is  mistress  in  this 
house.     Mrs.  Downey  is  gone.     Oh,  I  wish  I  could  go  too  ! " 

"  Perhaps  you  had  better  go,  dear  child." 

"  Where  ?  Not  home  to  my  mother's  !  I  could  never  do 
that." 

"Then  come  to  me.     My  home,  as  long  as  I  have  one,  will 


350  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

ahvaj's  be  yours,  Marian.  But  if  you  can  only  be  brave  and 
strong  for  once,  you  may  stay  here,  and  that  woman  shall  go." 

"You  don"t  know,  Julia.  What  can  I  do?  My  husband 
thinks  she  is  indispensable  to  Clarence,  and  unless  I  can 
speak  of  some  special  fault  of  hers,  something  a  man  can  un- 
derstand, my  objection  to  her  must  seem  wholly  unreasonable. 
She  treats  me  pleasantly.  She  is  always  polite  and  smiling, 
but  she  is  never  sincere  with  me.  There  is  something  in  her 
spirit  that  holds  me  in  utter  contempt.  She  has  gained  a 
complete  ascendency  over  Mr,  Daskill ;  he  sees  only  her, 
hears  only  her ;  he  has  scarcely  a  look  or  a  word  for  me." 

"  How  long  has  this  been  .''  " 

"Almost  from  the  first,  only  I  would  not  for  a  long  while 
believe  it.  She  always  had  a  way  of  making  me  feel  my  in- 
feriority, especially  in  his  presence.  Then  all  at  once,  though 
she  was  still  outwardly  smiling,  I  felt  a  sort  of  defiance  in 
her,  as  if  she  was  aware  of  her  supremacy  here,  and  meant 
to  keep  it.  I  noticed  it  first  one  evening  after  I  had  brought 
Will  Rayburn  over  from  the  railroad.  I  told  her  what  I  had 
done,  just  as  I  had  told  her  other  things  about  him,  and  it 
seemed  to  me  that  I  had  given  her  a  conscious  power  over 
me."' 

"  It  was  n't  altogether  that;  I  will  tell  you  by  and  by  what 
it  was." 

"  Oh,  I  shall  be  so  glad  if  you  will  tell  me  it  was  not  what 
I  feared  !  I  have  so  dreaded  lest  she  should  have  betrayed  me 
to  him.  They  had  a  long  talk  that  evening.  It  seemed  to  me 
something  terrible  had  happened,  —  something  terrible  to  me. 
He  told  me  he  was  in  Clarence's  room.  That  is  always  the 
pretence  when  I  am  left  alone,  and  they  pass  their  evenings 
together.  But  I  know  !  he  was  in  Mrs.  Chilgrove's  room. 
He  was  there  till  after  midnight.  The  next  day  she  was  like 
a  queen,  cold  and  cruel-hearted,  but  smiling  still,  and  making 
me  feel  how  useless  it  would  be  for  me  to  attempt  to  remove 


MARIAN    LEARNS    THE    TRUTH  351 

her.  O  Julia,  can  you  help  me  ?  What  was  it  that  caused 
the  change  ?     What  was  the  trouble  ?  " 

"  ]\Iarian,  v.hen  you  are  prepared  to  hear  it,  I  am  going  to 
tell  you  something  you  have  not  yet  suspected.  I  hope  it 
will  give  you  strength  to  act  a  woman's  part." 

"  You  frighten  me  !  "said  Marian,  with  startled  eyes  and 
white  lips. 

"  Yes,  and  I  am  going  to  give  you  great  pain.  I  have  tried 
to  avoid  it.  I  have  appealed  to  your  husband.  I  have 
talked  with  Mrs.  Chilgrove.  I  came  to  her  first ;  it  was  that 
afternoon  in  your  absence.  She  gave  me  a  partial  promise 
that  she  would  go.  He  afterwards  did  the  same.  But  here 
she  is  still.     Now  you  shall  know  all." 

"  I  am  ready.     Tell  me  I  "  said  Marian,  pale  and  scared. 

"  You  remember,  the  day  you  brought  her  home,  you  met 
me  walking  with  a  gentleman  ?  It  was  Mr,  Rocknam,  Pris- 
cilla's  father,  a  person  of  great  moral  worth,  as  far  as  I  can 
learn.  He  recognized  Mrs.  Chilgrove,  and  from  him  I  have 
learned  some  extraordinary  things." 

Julia  paused.  Marian's  face  was  full  of  intense,  anxious 
questioning,  —  her  lips  apart,  her  frightened  eyes  fixed,  her 
breath  suspended. 

*'  The  most  extraordinary  is  —  that  your  husband  and  Mrs. 
Chilgrove  are  old  and  very  intimate  friends." 

Marian  appeared  relieved.     She  actually  smiled. 

"  Julia  !  that 's  impossible  !  " 

"It  does  seem  incredible.  But  neither  he  nor  she  denies 
it.  You  have  been  deceived.  Pretending  to  be  strangers, 
they  have  been  renewing  an  old  and  shameful  intrigue  under 
your  very  eyes.  If  you  wish  to  know  some  particulars  about 
it,  I  have  letters  which  I  will  show  you.  I  will  tell  you  briefly 
what  they  state  in  detail.  This  woman  formerly  had  the  care 
of  Clarence  at  Valley  Springs,  where  Mr.  Daskill  used  to  go 
out  regularly  and  spend  his  Sundays  with  them.     She  confi- 


352  farnell's  folly. 

dentially  informed  her  landlady  that  she  was  married  to  him, 
but  that  the  marriage  could  not  safely  be  made  public  until 
she  had  secured  from  another  husband — a  Canadian  named 
Lafitte,  from  whom  she  claimed  that  she  had  been  divorced  — 
an  alimony,  which  had  been  granted  her,  but  which  he  con- 
tested in  the  courts.  By  such  pretences  she  hoodwinked  the 
landlady,  who  refused  to  believe  a  word  that  was  spoken 
against  her,  even  after  her  intrigues  with  other  men  in  Mr. 
Daskill's  absence  had  become  notorious.  Then  it  transpired 
— for  such  a  man  cannot  hide  his  light  under  a  bushel  —  that 
Mr.  Daskill  was  a  well-known  Buffalo  man,  and  that  he  had  a 
wife  living.  It  seems  that  she  was  an  invalid,  and  that  she 
died  about  this  time.  Then  the  landlady  was  told  that  the 
wife  had  been  the  real  obstacle  in  the  way  of  the  marriage, 
which  was  to  take  place  as  soon  as  a  decent  regard  for  public 
opinion  would  permit.  It  was  still  put  off,  however,  until  at 
length  Mr.  Daskill,  for  good  cause,  it  seems,  became  jealous 
of  the  doctor  who  attended  Clarence,  quarrelled  with  Mrs. 
Lafitte,  and  left  her,  taking  his  son  away  with  him,  after  a 
rather  terrific  scene,  according  to  the  landlady's  account.  In 
her  anger,  Mrs.  Lafitte  sent  after  him  all  the  money  ha  had 
left  with  her;  but  it  did  not  even  have  the  effect  of  bringing 
him  to  communicate  with  her  again." 

To  all  this  Marian  listened  with  a  face  which  might  be 
called  deathlike,  but  that  the  faces  of  the  dead  have  neither 
anguish  nor  despair,  but  happily  are  at  peace.     Julia  went  on. 

"The  doctor  involved  in  the  scandal  is  a  friend  of  my 
friend,  Mr.  Rocknam.  You  will  see  a  letter  from  him,  if  you 
wish  to  read  it.  Though  an  amiable  and  high-minded  man, 
he  was  for  a  time  infatuated  with  this  woman,  but  his  eyes 
were  opened  at  last.  She  had  reached  the  end  of  her  career 
in  a  place  where  her  real  character  had  become  so  well 
known  ;  and  all  at  once  she  disappeared,  leaving  her  trunk 
and  nearly  all  her  clothing,  which  her  landlady  detained  for 


MARIAN    LEARNS   THE    TRUTH.  353 

arrears  of  debt.  If  there  is  more  you  want  to  know,  you  will 
perhaps  find  it  in  these  letters.  Now,  Marian,  rise  up  in  your 
womanhood ! " 

Poor  ]\Iarian  did  not  look  as  if  she  would  ever  rise  up 
again,  in  any  sense. 

"  Oh,  if  I  could  die  this  moment  !  "  she  moaned.  "  Why 
did  I  ever  see  this  man  .?  " 

"  We  cannot  tell  that.  Let  us  hope  that  some  light  may 
come  out  of  what  seems  now  so  dark.  And  there  will,  Marian, 
if  you  have  courage,  and  patience,  and  faith." 

"  But  I  am  so  weak  !     How  can  I  strive  with  this  woman  ?  " 

"  Do  not  attempt  it.  You  are  no  match  for  her  scorn  and 
hate." 

"Then  what  shall  I  do.?" 

"If  you  love  your  husband,  —  if  your  heart  still  clings  to 
him  —  " 

"  Oh,  if  I  could  have  him  as  he  was,  alone  !  We  might  have 
been  happy.     It  is  this  woman  who  has  made  all  the  trouble." 

"  If  you  feel  so,  then  you  can  forgive  much.  Wait  till  he 
returns." 

"  He  has  already  returned.     He  came  last  night." 

*'  So  much  the  better  :  it  will  be  sooner  over.  Go  to  him  ; 
appeal  to  his  love  for  you.  Do  all  in  gentleness,  but  let  him 
understand  that  either  she  or  you  must  leave  the  house  at 
once,  —  no  delay.  Perhaps  it  will  be  better  for  you  to  go 
home,  and  let  him  seek  you  there  for  an  explanation." 

"  I  could  n't  go  home  and  have  my  mother  know  !  " 

"Then  come  with  me." 

"  I  dare  not!"  said  the  miserable  girl.  "What  will  the 
world  say  if  I  am  separated  from  him.'' " 

"  Poor  child  !  can   you  think   of  that  ?     I  wish  you  would 

think  only  of  your  own  womanhood  —  only  of  what  is  right. 

That  is  your  weapon  of  power  in  this  trouble  :  fear  of  what 

people  will  say,  fear  of  losing  some  worldly  advantage,  —  that 

23 


354  FARNELLS    FOLLY. 

is  your  weakness.     Would  you  remain,  and  witness  her  tri- 
umph ?  " 

"  Oh  !  oh  !  "  Marian  cried  out,  as  if  pierced  with  sharp 
pain.  "How  can  I  endure  more  than  I  have  endured.  I 
would  n't  confess  it  even  to  myself,  but  I  have  had  the  most 
horrible  suspicions,  I  have  been  madly  jealous.  The  evenings 
the  nights,  he  has  pretended  to  spend  in  Clarence's  room,  — 
I  see  it  all  now  !  Can  I  pass  such  another  night  and  live  ? 
Julia,  if  you  love  me,  give  me  some  quick  poison,  that  I  may 
end  it  all,  and  be  at  rest !  " 

"  You  a  Christian  woman,  and  say  that !  No,  you  are  to 
live,  Marian.  There  is  comfort  yet  in  store  for  you;  there 
are  still  those  who  love  you." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  said  Marian,  with  a  faint  gleam  of 
hope.  "Julia,  how  much  you  talk  like  —  like  William.  I 
have  thought  I  would  give  anything  in  the  world  if  I  could 
tell  Jiim  everything,  and  get  his  advice.  But  that  is  out  of  the 
question.  And  I  know  he  would  say  just  what  you  say.  I 
wish  you  could  stay  with  me  !  " 

"  I  would  if  I  could,  dear.  But  see  !  it  is  beginning  to 
snow,  and  I  must  hasten  home.  My  poor  father  complains 
bitterly  of  my  neglecting  him.  Shall  I  leave  you  these  let- 
ters ? '' 

With  a  look  of  shrinking  horror  Marian  took  them,  folded 
them  in  her  handkerchief,  and  put  them  in  her  pocket. 

"  Is  she  in  the  house  ?  "  asked  Julia,  as  she  was  going. 

"  Yes  ;  and  she  knows  you  are  here  talking  with  me." 
It    is,  perhaps,    well  that   she   does :  the    crisis  will   be 
hastened  " 

And  Julia,  taking  sad  leave  of  her  friend,  went  out  into  the 
rising  storm. 


UNDER  THE  WHITE  DOVE,  355 


CHAPTER  XLI. 


UNDER    THE    WHITE    DOVE. 


It  was  some  time  before  Marian  could  summon  courage  to 
look  at  the  letters.  She  locked  herself  in  her  room,  she 
walked  the  floor,  she  gazed  from  the  window,  and  watched 
the  driving  snow  and  the  wild,  on-coming  night ;  she  wept, 
she  even  prayed.  At  last  she  sat  down  with  the  letters  in 
her  lap,  in  the  fading  daylight,  and  read,  —  rather,  began  to 
read  :  get  through  them  she  could  not.  Suddenly  she  flung 
them  from  her,  with  a  cry  of  horror,  and  sprang  up. 

"O  merciful  Providence!"  she  exclaimed,  "what  am  I 
here  for  ?     \\'hy  did  n't  I  go  with  Julia  }     I  will  go  now  !  " 

She  rushed  to  the  window.  Scarcely  the  trees  in  the  yard 
were  visible  in  the  ghostly  whiteness,  amid  the  dim,  snow- 
laden  gusts.  She  looked  down,  and  tried  to  see  the  shovelled 
path  to  the  street,  and  beheld  a  light  sleigh  turn  into  the 
yard.  She  drew  back,  affrighted.  Her  husband  had  come 
home  from  the  store. 

It  did  not  seem  to  her  now  that  she  could  ever  face  him 
again.  To  go  down  and  sit  at  the  tea-table  was  impossible. 
There  was  one  resort ;  her  brain  was  throbbing,  she  was  ill : 
she  would  go  to  bed.  The  servant  came  in  answer  to  her 
ring. 

"  I  have  a  headache,"  she  said.     *'  I  shall  not  go  down." 

"  Shall  I  bring  you  up  someUiing  ?  " 

"  No,  I  thank  you."  Even  in  her  anguish  she  spoke  gently 
and  sweetly  to  the  girl,  "  All  I  want  is  rest  —  to  be  left 
alone." 


356  farnell's  folly. 

Then  she  waited.  Would  he  come  to  her?  She  heard  his 
footstep  on  the  stairs,  but  it  did  not  stop  at  her  door. 

"  He  has  gone  to  her  ! "  she  said,  and  hid  her  face. 

What  an  age  of  anxiety  was  the  next  hour  !  It  was  grow- 
ing dark  in  the  chamber.  When  she  looked  out,  she  saw  only 
the  whirling  snow-cloud  sweep  past  the  window.  The 
tempest  buffeted  the  house,  rattled  the  blinds,  screamed 
aboyt  the  cornices,  hurled  volleys  of  driven  flakes,  fine  as 
sleet,  against  the  pane.  No  other  sound.  And  so  the  night 
came  on. 

There  she  lay,  and  thought,  and  thought.  The  days  of  her 
bright  girlhood ;  the  times  when  she  used  to  pass  this  very 
house,  and  wonder  what  could  prevent  its  future  occupants 
from  being  altogether  happy,  and  would  she  ever  be  so 
blessed  ?  the  rosy  mists  of  hope  and  passion  that  veiled  the 
future  to  her  young  eyes ,  her  mother's  false  teachings  and 
artful  schemes  to  secure  for  her  a  brilliant  marriage,  the 
religion  she  once  thought  she  experienced,  —  how  unreal  it 
seemed  to  her  now!  the  love,  oh,  the  pure,  beautiful  love 
which  was  once  hers,  but  which  she  cast  away,  —  for  what? 
—  her  first  meeting  with  Adolphus,  the  ardor  of  the  new 
wooer,  the  brief  triumph,  the  short-lived  happiness,  the 
present  fear  and  horror,  the  loathsomeness  of  life,  —  all  this 
throbbed  through  her  brain. 

Footsteps  again  ,  a  hand  on  the  latch.  She  buried  her- 
self in  the  bedclothes.  Somebody  entered  the  room  ;  and  she 
heard  a  voice  —  his  voice  —  ordermg  a  light  to  be  brought.  In 
the  interval  of  waiting,  he  walked  impatiently  to  and  fro,  —  now 
approaching  the  bed  where  she  lay  shrinking  and  trembling, 
then  the  footsteps  receding  into  the  hall. 

At  last  all  was  still  in  the  room,  only  a  fitful  rustling  of 
paper  was  heard.  Her  suspense  became  intolerable  ;  she 
drew  aside  the  bedclothes,  and  looked  forth,  like  some 
scared,   wild   creature   from   its   hiding-place.     There   was  a 


UNDER    THE    WIUIE    DOVE.  357 

lamp  on  the  table  between  the  windows ;  and  there,  in  the 
full  light,  sat  her  husband,  with  his  glasses  on,  reading  the 
letters  which  he  had  picked  up  from  the  floor.  To  the 
eyes  of  the  suffering  and  timid  wife,  his  countenance  was 
terrible  in  its  wrath  and  gloom.  She  looked  at  him  but  for 
a  moment.  Then  once  more  she  covered  her  face  and  lay 
still. 

After  a  while  she  heard  him  come  over  to  her,  place  a 
chair  by  the  bedside,  and  sit  down. 

"Marian,"  he  said  calmly,  "please  let  me  see  your  face; 
I  want  to  talk  with  you." 

She  obediently  threw  off  the  covering,  but  did  not  look  at 
him ;  she  looked  up  at  the  holy  symbol  of  the  sculptured 
white  dove  over  the  marriage-bed.  He  gazed  fixedly  for  a 
moment  at  the  pale,  pantmg  thing  that  was  his  wife,  then 
said,  in  tones  still  outwardly  calm,  but  portentous  with  deep 
passion,  — 

"  Are  you  really  sick  }  " 

"  O  Adolphus,"  she  replied,  "  I  am  sick  to  death  !  I  wish 
I  could  die  !  Why  did  n't  you  kill  me  sooner  than  —  "  Her 
voice  ended  in  a  shudder, 

"  Sooner  than  what .''  Speak  it  out  !  Let 's  come  to  an 
understanding." 

"  How  could  you  deceive  me  so  ?  "  she  broke  forth ;  and 
went  off  into  a  paroxysm  of  sobbing. 

"  Well,"  said  Adolphus,  after  a  pause,  —  and  she  checked 
her  sobs  to  hear,  — "  it  is  fine  for  jou  to  accuse  me  of 
deception." 

"  Why,  I  have  never  deceived  you,  Adolphus  !  " 

"Never  ?  Think  a  moment.  Don't  be  so  unreasonable  as 
to  forget  nobody's  faults  but  your  own.  I  courted  you  in  per- 
fectly good  faith,  —  I  gave  you  my  whole  heart ;  while  you 
won  me  by  a  course  of  duplicity." 

«/;" 


358  farnell's  folly. 

"  You  and  your  mother.  You  began  it  that  very  night 
when  I  first  saw  you.  You  were  rushing  into  the  arms  of 
your  lover  when  I  came  to  the  door.  Expecting  your  brother- 
in-law  !  and  your  kiss  was  for  him,  was  it .-'  I  have  never 
known  of  your  greeting  Mr.  Lorkins  in  that  affectionate  way. 
Your  innocent  face  and  your  mother's  simpering  lies  were 
enough  to  impose  upon  anybody  ,  but  I  found  afterwards  who 
was  coming  to  the  house." 

"  Oh  !  but  there  was  never  anything  wrong  between  him 
and  me ! " 

"  Nothing  wrong  ?  Then  I  'd  like  to  know  what  your 
notion  is  of  a  woman's  modesty  and  truth.  Whatever  my 
previous  life  may  have  been,  I  was  a  free  man  when  I  offered 
myself  to  you.  I  had  n't  been  spotless ;  I  did  n't  claim  to  be  ; 
no  man  of  my  years  and  temperament  can  claim  that.  But  I 
was  bound  to  no  woman.  On  the  other  hand,  the  very  day  I 
declared  myself,  and  you  encouraged  my  suit,  assuring  me 
that  your  hand  was  free,  —  that  very  day,  that  very  hour,  you 
had  pledged  it  to  another.  His  kisses  were  warm  on  your 
lips.  Before  you  could  come  out  to  me,  you  had  to  stop  m 
your  sister's  room,  and  smooth  your  hair  and  collar,  rumpled 
by  his  caresses.     Now  you  talk  of  my  deception  !  " 

This  was  all  too  true.  Marian  cowered,  and  could  not  say 
a  word.  She  remembered  who  was  in  the  room  at  the  time 
and  helped  her  arrange  her  collar  and  hair.  She  remem- 
bered, too,  her  own  foolish  confidences  to  the  woman  who  had 
certainly  betrayed  her. 

*'  Then,  do  you  think  if  I  had  known  how  you  went  over  to 
the  railroad  one  morning,  to  catch  him  as  he  was  going  away 
from  you,  do  you  think  I  would  have  meekly  taken  up  with 
his  leavings  }  Why,  you  and  your  mother  could  never  tell  me 
the  truth  !  When  she  stole  your  key  to  get  into  the  house  one 
night,  and  lost  it,  and  it  was  handed  to  me  the  next  morning, 
—  what  a  mystery  you  both  made  of  it !    You  seem  to  have 


UNDER    THE    WHITE    DOVE.  359 

lived  in  an  atmosphere  of  deceit ,  anything  was  easier  to  you 
than  to  speak  the  truth." 

As  she  had  never  related  the  adventure  of  the  key  to  any 
one,  and  was  not  aware  of  her  mother's  having  taken  Mrs. 
Chilgrovc  into  her  confidence,  Marian  could  not  conceive  how 
Adolphus  had  obtained  his  information.  Still  she  could  not 
reply.  She  lay  looking  up  through  her  tears  at  the  white- 
winged  symbol  of  peace  and  purity  above  the  bed,  and  awaited 
his  cruel  words. 

"  This,  you  will  say,  was  before  marriage.  What  since  ? 
The  very  morning  after  we  came  back  to  this  house  I  caught 
you  in  tears,  and  in  your  confusion  you  betrayed  the  not  very 
complimentary  fact  to  a  new  husband,  that  you  were  thinking 
of  an  old  lover." 

Then  Marian  turned  and  looked  at  him  and  tried  to  speak ; 
but  he  went  on. 

"  And  don't  I  know  that  you  have  been  intriguing  with  him 
since  ?  You  could  n't  rest  until  you  got  him  back  here  and  in 
your  father's  shop.  Your  influence  in  his  favor  is  greater  than 
all  other  interests  against  him.  He  is  making  public  speeches, 
abusing  me  and  my  friends  and  my  speculation." 

"  I  don't  believe  it  is  so  !  "  cried  Marian. 

"  Why,  it 's  the  town  talk.  Your  father  acknowledges  that  he 
has  heard  him  ;  more  than  that,  that  he  has  indorsed  him.  And 
when  I  told  him  to-day  that  I  should  regard  it  as  an  act  of  un- 
friendliness if  he  kept  in  his  employ  a  person  who  is  my  open 
and  malignant  enemy,  what  do  you  think  ?  That  he  acted  like 
my  wife's  father,  and  complied  with  my  reasonable  require- 
ment ?     No.     He  told  me  virtually  to  go  about  my  business." 

Marian  was  roused  to  reply. 

"  I  don't  believe  he  told  you  that.  It  does  n't  sound  like 
my  father.  My  father  is  the  most  just  man  that  ever  lived. 
He  iias  not  been  intluenced  by  me.  I  have  not  intrigued  for 
anybody.     I  know  nothing  about  the  things  you  complain  of. 


36o  farnell's  folly. 

Only  I  am  sure  of  this,  that  my  father  would  not  say  or  do 
anything  that  he  did  not  think  right." 

"  Very  well.  Stand  up  for  him.  I  should  expect  you  would, 
since  he  takes  your  lover's  part.  My  business,  my  reputation, 
my  interests  are  of  no  account." 

"  Since  you  feel  that  way,"  replied  Marian,  gaining  courage 
with  speech,  "  I  think  I  had  better  go  home.  I  ought  to  have 
gone  as  soon  as  I  learned  those  dreadful  things  about  you  and 
Mrs.  Lafitte.  But  I  waited  —  I  hoped  you  would  have  some 
word  of  explanation,  some  promise  for  me,  for  I  am  young  to 
have  all  my  hopes  of  happiness  blighted." 

The  pathos  of  this  appeal  did  not  touch  Adolphus.  His 
reply  was  cold  and  stern. 

"  If  they  are  blighted,  it  is  your  own  fault.  The  wife  who 
wishes  to  keep  her  husband  true  must  be  true  to  him..  When 
I  found  that  I  never  had  your  heart,  what  could  you  expect  ?  " 

"  You  had  my  heart.  I  have  been  true  to  you.  Adolphus, 
I  have  never  wronged  you  by  word  or  deed.  I  was  weak,  I 
was  bewildered.  I  had  n't  the  courage  to  tell  you  all,  as  I 
ought  to  have  done  ;  but  I  never  meant  to  deceive  you.  I 
had  been  interested  in  William,  but  when  I  accepted  you 
I  had  given  him  up.  I  was  all  yours,— or  you  might  have 
made  me  so  if  you  had  cared  for  me,  if  you  had  been  kind. 
And  you  might  make  me  so  still;  fori  have  loved  you  —  I 
want  to  love  you  now  and  be  at  peace.  I  can  forgive  any- 
thing. I  can  bury  the  past,  let  it  all  go,  if  you  will  begin 
anew  with  me,  and  try  to  m.ake  our  married  life  what  it  ouo-ht 
to  be." 

"  I  should  be  very  glad  to,  Marian,  not  only  for  your  sake 
and  mine,  but  to  avoid  public  scandal.  That  is  always  the 
devil  in  such  cases,  —  especially  to  the  woman.  A  man 
need  n"t  mind  it  so  much." 

"  I  don't  need  to  be  told  that  I  am  the  one  to  suffer  most, 
if  we  are  separated.     There  will  be  nothing  left  for  me  in  life, 


UNDER   THE    WHITE    DOVE.  361 

but  you  can  go  on,  with  your  head  high,  as  men  do,  and  forget 
your  domestic  troubles  in  the  excitement  of  business  and  in 
the  society  of  other  women.  That  is  the  way  of  the  world. 
But  it  is  n't  simply  because  I  should  be  the  greatest  loser  that 
I  dread  to  leave  you  :  I  want  love.  O  Adolphus,  I  want 
peace  and  good-will !  " 

"  Very  well.  You  can  have  them.  I  do  not  tell  you  to  go. 
I  very  much  prefer  that  you  should  stay." 

"  And  will  you  do  me  justice  ?  "  Marian  implored,  trying  to 
gather  hope  from  his  words,  cold  and  hard  as  the  heart  seemed 
that  uttered  them. 

"  In  what  way  ?  " 

"  There  is  but  one  way,  dear  husband.  You  cannot  keep 
her  in  this  house." 

"  You  mean  Mrs.  Chilgrove  ?  " 

"Mrs.  Chilgrove  —  or  Mrs.  Lafitte.  I  mean  the  woman 
who  has  come  between  us  and  caused  all  our  trouble,  —  that 
false,  intriguing,  dangerous,  desperate  woman,  whom  I  was  so 
foolish  as  to  suppose  that  I  chose  for  a  companion,  while  I 
was  being  artfully  led  by  you  to  take  her  into  the  house." 

"  Marian,  you  wrong  me  there,"  said  Adolphus,  in  the  old 
plausible  way.  "  She  was  your  own  choice  ;  if  I  consented  to 
it,  it  was  because  I  knew  of  no  other  woman  in  the  world  who 
could  do  so  much  for  my  son." 

Marian  was  not  convinced. 

"  She  was  my  choice,  as  many  other  things  have  been  my 
choice,  when  you  have  had  your  will  in  spite  of  me ;  just  as  the 
room  we  gave  her  was  my  choice." 

"Don't  you  believe  my  word?  "  he  demanded. 

"  I  will  not  dispute  it  in  that  or  in  anything.  I  know  what 
you  will  tell  me.  I  will  not  waste  words  in  accusations  or 
complaints.     All  I  ask  is,  that  she  shall  go." 

"  But,  Marian,  don't  you  see  ?     That  is  impossible." 

Marian  writhed  at  these  words,  so  deadly  to  all  her  hopes. 


362  farnell's  folly. 

"You  say  that!"  she  cried,  glaring  upon  him  with  wild, 
despairing  eyes.     "  Then  I  shall  go  !  " 

"  No,  Marian,  you  won't  do  anything  so  foolish  and  unrea- 
sonable." 

"  Who  will  prevent  me  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  will.  I  am  your  husband  :  I  have  the  right  to  re- 
strain you  from  committing  any  such  insane  act.  But  you  will 
not  compel  me  to  do  that  when  I  explain  to  you  how  neces- 
sary it  is  for  Mrs.  Chilgrove  to  remain  with  Clarence." 

"  Let  her  take  Clarence  away  to  another  house,  to  another 
town." 

"  That  would  n't  suit  you,  either.  I  must  visit  my  son. 
You  would  accuse  me  of  visiting  her.  You  would  be  misera- 
ble, and  make  me  so.  You  've  got  to  make  up  your  mind, 
Marian,  to  let  me  have  my  way  in  this  matter." 

"And  live  under  the  same  roof  with  her  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  Once  get  rid  of  your  foolish  prejudices,  and 
content  yourself  with  the  place  where  you  really  belong,  and 
we  three  can  live  harmoniously  together." 

"  Do  you  mean  it,  Adolphus  ?  " 
.  "  Most  assuredly.     If  the  old  scandals  break  out  or  new 
ones  come  up,  we  can  deny  them,  live  them  down.     Society 
has  unbounded  toleration  for  people  who  live  in  fine  houses 
and  bear  themselves  with  courage." 

"Tell  me  then  plainly,  —  do  not  put  forward  any  pretence, 
but  tell  me  at  once,  —  not  that  she  is  necessary  to  Clarence, 
but  that  she  is  necessary  to  you." 

"Very  well.  Have  it  so,  if  you  like.  It  is  time  for  us  to 
understand  each  other." 

"  And  I  am  to  stay  and  see  her  take  my  place  ? " 

"  Oh,  no,  not  your  place.  Her  own  place.  I  shall  cher- 
ish you  for  all  you  are  to  me.  She  is  something  different. 
Whatever  may  be  said  of  her,  she  is  a  woman  of  wonderful 
powers." 


UNDER    THE    WHITE    DOVE.  363 

"  WTiy  did  n't  you  marry  her  ?  " 

"  It  is  too  late  to  ask  that  question," 

"  Perhaps  not,"  said  Marian,  with  something  strangely  calm 
and  significant  in  her  look  and  tone.  "  I  feel  that  I  shall  not 
live  very  long.  Then  you  can  repair  the  error  you  made  when 
you  forsook  a  woman  of  such  powers  for  a  foolish  child  like 
me. 

"  Don't  talk  nonsense  !  "  said  Adolphus  impatiently. 

"  I  am  talking  most  seriously.  If  this  is  not  my  death-bed, 
it  is  the  death  bed  of  my  happiness.  Adolphus,  I  give  you  up. 
Oh,  if  she  were  a  pure  and  good  woman,  and  you  loved  her 
truly,  how  willingly  I  would  take  myself  out  of  your  way,  and 
leave  nothing  between  you  but  a  little  mound  of  earth,  which 
would  be  so  little  for  you  to  step  over  !  And  that  is  all  that 
is  left  for  me  to  do,  willingly  or  unwillingly.  I  can't  survive 
this ;  I  've  no  wish  to  surA-ive  it.  What  !  live  in  the  house 
with  you  and  her,  now  that  I  know  what  I  only  suspected 
before  ?  Endure  that  cold,  triumphant  smile  of  hers  ?  Be  a 
wife  only  in  name,  a  dishonored  wife,  who  is  expected  to  live 
harmoniously  with  her  husband  and  his  —  Oh !  oh  !  " 

And  writhing  again  in  the  agony  of  that  thought,  Marian 
once  more  covered  her  face  and  closed  her  ears.  Adolphus 
rose  and  left  the  room. 


364  farnell's  folly. 


CHAPTER   XLII. 

OVERWHELMED. 

Marian  lay  very  still  for  a  while,  thinking  only  of  death, 
and  praying  for  it ;  but  death  is  not  a  servant,  to  appear 
obediently  at  our  bidding,  and  ease  us  of  a  weary  load.  Then 
all  at  once  came  the  sharp,  relentless  thought  that  she  must 
live,  and  strive,  and  suffer.  What  hope  was  there  that  he 
would  do  her  right  ?  She  remembered  how  he  had  forestalled 
her  accusations  against  him  by  bringing  charges  of  unfaithful- 
ness against  her  ;  and  recalled  his  cool  assumption  that  she 
could  accustom  herself  to  the  shameful  life  he  proposed,  and 
find  her  place,  and  be  content.  His  threat  to  use  a  husband's 
right  to  restrain  her  was  still  ringing  in  her  ears.  All  his 
cruel  words  came  back,  and  the  memory  of  wrongs  more  terri- 
ble than  words.     She  started  up. 

"  He  will  prevent  me  from  leaving  this  house,"  she  said  in 
a  wild  whisper.  "  He  shall  not  !  What  do  I  care  for  the 
storm  ?     It  will  be  gentle  and  tender  compared  with  him  !'' 

She  dressed  herself  in  haste,  choosing  as  far  as  practicable 
the  garments  she  had  brought  with  her  into  her  husband's 
house.  Her  heavy  suit  of  furs  —  his  gift  —  she  left  lying  in 
a  chair,  and  put  on  her  old  camel's-hair  shawl,  with  hood  and 
veil.  Habit  was  so  strong  with  her  that  even  at  a  time  like 
this  she  had  to  turn  and  arrange  her  head-gear  before  the  glass. 
She  remembered  that  this  was  the  same  thick  blue  veil  she 
had  worn  that  morning  when  she  went  over  in  the  coach  to 
see  Will  for  the  last  time  before  he  started  on  his  journey. 
What  a  scared  and  ghastly  face  looked  out  at  her  from  under 
it  now  ! 


OVERWHELMED.  365 

She  had  put  on  ample  underclothing ;  and  lastly,  over  her 
small,  delicately  booted  feet  she  drew  a  pair  of  woollen  stock- 
ino'S  of  extroardinar)'  length  and  thickness.  Little  did  Mrs, 
Wetherspun  think  when  she  gave  her  time  and  her  best  yarn 
(which  she  had  since  so  often  begrudged)  to  make  the  bride 
a  handsome  present,  that  it  would  be  brought  out  and  put  to 
use  for  the  first  time  on  an  occasion  such  as  this. 

Then,  before  drawing  on  her  gloves,  Marian  pencilled  a  few 
words  of  farewell,  and  left  them  on  the  bureau.  All  the  while 
she  did  not  shed  a  tear,  until,  when  she  was  ready  to  depart, 
turning  to  take  a  last  look  at  the  luxurious,  lamp-lighted  room, 
she  remembered  that  it  was  her  bridal-chamber.  What  hope 
and  pride  had  entered  it  a  few  months  before ;  what  misery 
and  despair  were  fleeing  from  it  now  !  All  was  over ;  her 
dreams  were  gone,  like  the  petals  of  a  faded  flower  blown  by 
ruthless  gales;  her  life  was  bare  and  desolate.  The  pathos  of 
her  own  situation  brought  some  tears  ;  but  she  drew  the  veil 
over  them,  closed  the  room  behind  her,  listened  for  a  moment, 
and  then  stole  down  the  stairs. 

When  she  opened  the  front  door,  she  was  met  by  such  a 
volley  of  wind  and  snow  as  might  have  dismayed  a  stouter  heart. 
She  did  indeed  start  back  instinctively.  But  a  desperate  re- 
solve possessed  her,  and  her  horror  of  the  house  urged  her  on. 
She  closed  the  door  carefully  after  her,  and  went  forth  into 
the  night  and  storm. 

The  free  course  of  the  wind  swept  the  snow  from  the  brow 
of  the  hill ;  and,  once  in  the  street,  she  got  along  with  no  great 
hardship  for  a  while,  only  the  force  of  the  tempest  sometimes 
fairly  hurling  her  back  and  depriving  her  of  breath.  But  as 
she  descended  the  slope  the  snow  became  deeper,  until  she 
found  herself  sinking  in  drifts.  Still  she  kept  on,  stopping 
to  rest  now  and  then,  turning  her  back  to  the  blast,  and  gath- 
ering breath  and  strength  for  renewed  efforts. 

At  every  step,  progress  became  more  and  more   difficult. 


366  farnel.l's  folly. 

If  for  a  moment  there  was  a  lull,  at  the  next  a  fierce  gust 
swooped  down  upon  her,  beat  her  veil  aside,  and  flapped  in 
her  face  with  furious  wings.  The  snow  engulfed  and  paralyzed 
her  limbs.  Her  power  to  struggle  was  fast  leaving  her  ;  and 
once  when  she  stopped  she  sank  down. 

She  did  not  think  she  could  ever  get  up  again.  But  now 
she  began  to  dread  the  death  for  which  she  had  prayed  a  little 
while  before.  There  were  houses  farther  on  :  could  she  reach 
them  }  or  should  she  go  back  to  the  one  she  had  left,  and  ac- 
cept the  shelter  with  the  shame  ?  She  would  soon  be  cut  off 
even  from  that  last  resort ;  for  the  drifts  closed  up  behind  her, 
and  her  own  tracks  were  almost  immediately  filled. 

She  rose,  and  actually  turned  back,  after  vainly  attempting 
to  face  the  gale.  But  she  had  not  gone  far  when  she  became 
aware  of  strange  obstructions  under  her  feet.  She  felt  them 
with  her  gloved  hands.  They  were  stones.  She  was  floun- 
dering over  an  almost  buried  wayside  wall.  Which  wall  it 
was,  on  which  side  of  it  lay  the  road  whence  she  had  strayed,  a 
little  reflection  might  have  taught  her,  had  she  not  been  by  this 
time  too  much  bewildered  to  reflect.  When  she  finally  got 
free  of  the  stones,  she  was  not  on  the  side  of  the  street,  but 
of  the  fields. 

More  than  once  she  sank  down  in  the  drifts  as  she  struggled 
on,  and  at  last  she  could  not  rise  at  all.  She  could  only  call 
for  help.  And  call  she  did,  with  all  the  feeble  might  of  her 
exhausted  lungs.  She  could  scarcely  hear  her  own  voice.  It 
seemed  as  if  her  cries  were  caught  up  into  a  whirlwind,  and 
answered  by  the  roar  of  the  storm. 

She  knew  she  was  lost ;  and  her  final  efforts  had  been  spent 
in  vain  attempts  to  find  once  more  the  roadside  wall ;  fon 
out  of  the  track  of  travel,  what  hope  was  there  of  rescue  ? 
Sleighs  might  pass  within  a  few  rods  of  her,  and  who  would 
hear  her  calls  ? 

She  could  see  no  prospect  before  her  but  to  pass  the  night 


OVERWHELMED.  367 

buried  in  the  snow  ;  and  that  she  knew  was  death.  So  young, 
so  dehcately  nurtured,  so  beloved  by  parents  and  friends,  a 
dreadful  death  it  seemed  !  But  she  was  powerless  to  struggle 
longer  against  it,  and  she  became  reconciled  to  it.  In  a  sit- 
ting posture,  with  her  back  to  the  gale,  she  gathered  her 
clothing  closely  about  her,  and  bowed  her  face  in  her  shawl. 
Who  would  find  her  there,  stiff  and  cold  ?  Who  would  mourn 
for  her  ?  Would  her  husband's  heart  be  wrung?  He  would 
give  perhaps  one  tear  to  her  memor}-,  heave  one  sigh  over  her 
untimely  fate,  then  cheerfully  marry  Mrs.  Lafitte. 

A  fatal  numbness  was  stealing  over  her  when  once  she 
heard  a  faint  sound  of  sleigh-bells.  She  roused  herself,  and 
screamed  again  —  again.  But  her  voice  seemed  to  make  no 
headway  against  the  hurricane.  Still  she  could  hear  the  muf- 
fled jingle  of  the  bells,  sounding  as  if  they  were  borne  by  a 
horse  wallowing  through  deep  snow,  farther  and  farther  off. 
It  was  her  own  father's  horse,  driven  by  William  Rayburn. 
He  had  passed  within  a  half  a  dozen  rods  of  her  without 
hearing  her  voice. 

When  Mr.  Daskill  returned  to  Marian's  room,  ar>d  saw  her 
furs  on  a  chair,  and  a  pair  of  overshoes  she  had  set  out  (but 
had  not  put  on,  choosing  the  Wetherspun  stockings  instead), 
he  smiled  at  what  seemed  a  childish  device  to  startle  him. 
For  so  implicitly  did  he  trust  to  her  timid,  clinging  nature,  and 
to  his  ascendency  over  her,  that  he  did  not  once  doubt  his 
power  to  subdue  her  ultimately  to  his  wishes ;  and  the  possi- 
bility of  her  leaving  the  house  on  such  a  night  had  not 
entered  his  mind. 

When,  however,  he  advanced  to  the  bed,  and  found  it 
empty,  he  smiled  no  longer.  Then  the  brief  note  she  had 
left  on  the  bureau  caught  his  eye.  It  was  written  in  a  firm 
but  hurried  hand.  It  was  not  folded  ;  it  bore  neither  his  name 
nor  hers.  To  read  it,  he  had  to  put  his  glasses  on  and  hold 
it  to  the  light.     But  its  purport  was  plain  enough. 


368  farnell's  folly. 

'^  I  am  going  hofne.  I  shall  not  come  hack  until  y 011  do  me 
justice.  Nn'er  while  that  7iiomati  is  in  the  house.  Good  by.  I 
feel  that  it  is  forei'er.'^ 

Its  tone  was  not  such  as  he  would  have  expected,  —  no 
wail  of  a  broken  heart,  no  cry  for  pity.  He  had  not  given 
her  credit  for  so  much  resolution.  He  took  off  his  glasses, 
walked  quickly  to  the  window,  heard  the  storm  drive  and 
howl  for  a  moment,  then  examined  the  hall  door.  Finding  it 
unfastened,  he  called  Mrs.  Chilgrove,  took  her  into  Marian's 
room,  and  told  her  what  had  taken  place. 

"  Gone  home  ?  "  she  said,  with  a  smile,  reading  the  poor 
girl's  parting  words.     "  How  long  ago  ?  " 

That  question  was  not  easily  answered.  It  was  more  than 
three  hours  since  he  left  Marian  in  her  room,  and  she  had 
escaped  in  the  interval. 

They  looked  at  each  other,  — her  eyes  brightly  scintillant ; 
his,  turbid  with  trouble  of  soul.  Perhaps  he  was  thinking  of 
the  pure,  beautiful  young  creature  he  had  sacrificed  for  this 
woman,  and  comparing,  in  a  moment  of  remorse,  the  evil  he 
had  chosen  with  the  good  he  had  cast  away.  She  was  neither 
pure,  nor  beautiful,  nor  young  •,  whence,  then,  the  power  by 
which  she  had  brought  him  now,  a  second  time,  to  an 
unpleasant  crisis  in  his  life  ? 

"  I  am  surprised,"  said  she,  with  a  tinge  of  scorn  in  her 
tones,  "that  you  should  be  so  much  disturbed." 

"  Disturbed  !  "  he  exclaimed,  starting  towards  the  door. 
"  She  has  never  got  through  this  storm.  I  '11  find  her  and 
bring  her  back." 

She  stepped  quickly  to  his  side  and  caught  his  arm. 

"  Adolphus  !  you  will  do  no  such  thing." 

He  seized  her  wrist,  wrenched  off  her  hold  of  him,  and 
glared  at  her. 

"  You  are  the  most  heartless,  cold-blooded  woman  I  ever 
saw  !  " 


OVERWHELMED.  369 

She  receded  a  step  before  him  into  the  entn',  and  answered 
quietly,  but  with  a  pale,  pitiless  face,  — 

"  So  I  have  heard  you  say  before.  But  you  don't  believe 
it.  You  always  come  back  and  recant,  and  swear  that  no 
other  woman  has  so  much  heart.  I  have  reason  and  courage; 
that  is  all.      I  wish  you  had  more." 

"  And  would  you  have  me  sit  still  here,  when,  for  aught  we 
know,  she  may  be  at  this  moment  perishing  in  the  snow .'' " 

He  stood  in  the  doorway,  she,  in  the  dim  entry  beyond, 
facing  him,  her  thin  lips  pale  and  compressed,  her  eyes  gleam- 
ing, catlike,  in  the  rays  of  the  lamp  from  the  room  behind 
them. 

"  Adolphus,  listen  !  This  scheme  of  yours  for  making  her 
live  in  the  same  house  with  us  and  indorse  your  respectabil- 
ity is  impracticable.  I  have  let  you  amuse  yourself  with  the 
idea,  but  I  tell  you  now  it  is  unworthy  a  man  of  spirit." 

Adolphus  gave  her  a  baleful  look.  "  You  are  right,  I  sup- 
pose. What  union  can  there  be  between  a  woman  like  you 
and  an  innocent  girl  like  her  ?  1  found  you  out  long  ago  ; 
and  I  'm  astonished  at  myself  for  having  had  anything  to  do 
with  you  since.  I  wonder  I  have  n't  killed  you  !  Stand  out 
of  my  way  now,  —  you  'd  better  !  I  might  have  been  happy 
with  her,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you." 

These  last  words  broke  from  him  in  a  stifled  cry  of  rage 
and  anguish.  With  a  gleaming  smile,  she  made  way  for  him, 
and  he  hurried  from  the  house. 

Unlocking  the  stable,  he  bridled  his  horse  in  the  dark,  led 
him  out  without  a  saddle,  leaped  on  his  blanketed  back,  and 
rode  forth  on  his  dubious  errand.  In  his  rough-weather  coat 
and  cap,  he  minded  the  storm  very  little  ;  and  the  long-step- 
ping animal  got  through  the  drifts  so  easily  that  he  was 
encouraged  to  think  Marian  might  have  passed  without  very 
great  hardship  or  peril  two  hours  before.  In  the  worst  places 
he  paused  and  shouted,  and  listened  for  any  cry  that  might 
24 


370  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

reach  his  ears  through  the  tumult  and  gray  gloom.  But  no 
cry  was  heard.  He  kept  on  to  the  village.  Every  house  was 
dark. 

The  horse  stopped  of  his  own  accord  at  Mr.  Fenway's 
gate,  and  the  muffled  rider,  turning  his  back  to  the  storm, 
peering  anxiously  through  the  wild  snow-cloud  at  the  unlighted 
windows  and  forbidding  door,  could  hardly  have  helped  think- 
ing of  the  time  when  he  made  Marian's  acquaintance  and 
accompanied  her  home  with  his  dog,  and  of  the  days  of  his 
brief,  ardent  wooing.  Where  was  the  charm  the  old  house 
held  for  him  then,  where  the  intoxicating  cup  of  life  he  came 
so  eagerly  to  sip  .-'  So  few  months  had  passed,  and  now  here 
he  was  on  such  a  different  business. 

"  If  she  's  there,  she  's  safe  :  no  use  of  rousing  up  and 
alarming  the  folks.     She  's  there,  undoubtedly." 

Coming  to  which  conclusion,  he  gave  a  last  look  at  the 
dimly  outlined  house,  and  rode  back  homeward,  again  search- 
ing the  way  and  shouting  as  he  paused  in  the  deepest  drifts. 
No  discoveries.  He  put  up  the  horse,  and,  with  a  heavy 
heart,  re-entered  the  house. 


WHY    MILES    CALLED    ON    ADOLPHUS.  3/1 


CHAPTER  XLIIL 

WHY    MILES    CALLED    OX    ADOLPHUS. 

Mrs.  Chilgrove  had  shut  herself  in  her  room.  Adolphus 
did  not  go  to  her,  but  sat  down  in  Marian's  room,  and  looked 
gloomily  at  the  empty  bed  and  the  unused  overshoes  and  furs, 
and  lighted  a  cigar,  and  smoked,  and  thought. 

At  the  breakfast-table  the  next  morning  he  and  Mrs.  Chil- 
grove met  with  the  usual  civilities,  as  if  nothing  had  happened 
to  mar  the  harmony  of  their  lives.  She  knew  that  he  had  not 
brought  his  wife  home,  and  was  not  disposed  to  quarrel  with 
the  Fates  on  that  account.  And  he,  though  haunted  all  night 
by  a  feeling  that  Marian  was  out  in  the  storm  (he  had  even 
left  the  door  unfastened,  in  a  sort  of  superstitious  hope  that 
she  might  find  her  way  back  to  it),  had  now  reasoned  himself 
into  a  firm  morning-light  conviction  that  she  was  safe  in  her 
father's  house. 

The  storm  had  blown  itself  out  by  daybreak,  though  a 
sharp  wind  still  swept  little  volleys  of  drifting  snow  hither  and 
thither,  like  cold  white  flames  running  over  the  billows  of  a 
dazzling  white  sea.  The  invisible,  mighty  hand  that  had 
sculptured  the  world  in  marvellous  beauty  and  purity  was  add- 
ing a  few  light  touches  to  the  work,  —  tipping  an  airy  turret, 
curving  a  more  delicately  crested  wave,  or  hollowing  soft, 
ethereal,  bluish  depths  within  some  exquisite  shell-like  whorl. 

Mr.  Daskill  was  in  no  hurry  to  reach  his  place  of  business 
that  morning.  No  tracks  were  yet  broken  ;  the  village  would 
hardly  be  peeping  out  of  its  white  nightcap  before  noon. 
But  his  mind  still  reverted  to  the  heavy  snow-banks  through 


372  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

which  he  had  ridden  the  night  before  in  search  of  Marian. 
He  did  not  like  to  be  seen  riding  down  there  making  a  more 
thorough  search  by  daylight.  No  ;  he  would  not  even  own  to 
himself  that  anything  else  was  probable  than  that  she  was 
safe  at  home.  But  there  was  a  magnificent  view  from  the 
cupola  of  the  house  ;  it  must  be  particularly  fine  that  morn- 
ing; and  Mr.  Daskill  had  an  excellent  glass. 

After  breakfast,  not  caring  to  confer  with  Mrs.  Chilgrove, 
and  having  no  mail  or  newspapers  to  amuse  him,  he  went  up 
to  take  a  look.  He  had  been  in  the  cupola  half  an  hour, 
turning  the  telescope  again  and  again  to  every  part  of  the 
road  which  Marian  must  have  traversed  to  reach  her  father's 
house,  but  discovering  nothing  but  bare  trees,  and  occa- 
sionally a  wall  or  fence,  rising  above  the  drifts,  when  with  his 
naked  eye  he  noticed  some  one  approaching  from  the  village. 
It  was  a  man  ;  he  was  tall ;  his  long  limbs  made  little  of  the 
snow  through  which  they  had  to  wade.  Adolphus  aimed  his 
glass  quickly.  His  first  impression  was  confirmed  ;  the  comer 
was  Miles  Fenway.  He  thought  he  knew  what  that  meant. 
Marian  must  certainly  have  reached  home.  He  felt  vastly 
relieved,  though  the  prospect  of  meeting  a  wrathful  father 
was  not  extremely  pleasant. 

He  put  away  his  telescope,  went  down  into  the  library,  and 
placed  himself  at  his  desk,  where  Miles  Fenway,  on  his 
arrival,  found  him  engaged  in  writing  letters,  like  the  as- 
siduous man  of  business  he  was. 

"  Ah,  good  morning,"  said  he,  blotting  his  sheet  and  putting 
up  the  pen.     "  Did  n't  you  find  a  little  snow  in  your  way  ?  " 

"  All  that  my  legs  wanted  to  deal  with,  long  as  they  are," 
said  Miles,  taking  a  chair,  and  stretchmg  his  feet  out  towards 
the  cheery  fire  in  the  grate.  "  I  've  been  bringing  some  in  on 
to  your  fine  carpets,  spite  of  my  stamping  and  brushing." 

"A  little  clean  snow  does  n't  hurt  anything,"  said  Adolphus, 
pleased  to  find  his  father-in-law's  manner  so  conciliatory,  and 


WHY    MILES    CALLED    ON    ADOLPHUS.  373 

resolved  not  to  show  that  he  remembered  their  quarrel  of  the 
day  before.     "  Won't  you  pull  off  your  boots  ?  " 

"  No,  it  won't  be  worth  while  ;  my  trousers  are  tied  down, 
and  I  can  stop  but  a  minute.  I  've  come  on  business,  and 
very  unexpected  business." 

"  Ah  ?  "  said  Adolphus,  turning  on  his  chair,  and  sticking 
out  his  feet  to  the  fire.  He  put  his  hands  together,  and 
added,  with  a  smile  which  promised  the  most  plausible  ex- 
cuses and  explanations,  "  I  suppose  I  can  guess  what  it  is." 

"  Very  likely,"  said  Miles.  "  Now  I  think  of  it,  the  wonder 
is  that  something  of  the  kind  has  n't  come  up  before." 

"  I  don't  exactly  understand  that."  Mr.  Daskill's  counte- 
nance changed. 

"  That 's  because  you  don't  know  the  old  man  as  well  as  I 
do." 

"What  old  man?  "  Adolphus  was  all  adrift. 

"  Old  Carolus.  He  came  for  his  money  late  yesterday 
afternoon  ;  said  he  must  have  it,  and  I  suppose  he  must.  I 
disliked  mightily  to  trouble  you  about  it,  — just  at  this  time  ; 
but  I  see  no  other  way.  I  went  over  to  the  store  last  evening, 
just  after  you  had  left  it ;  and,  thinking  you  might  not  get 
down  this  forenoon,  I  came  up  here  to  see  you.  If,  as  you  say, 
you  have  anticipated  the  business,"  Miles  added,  "  I  trust  it 
won't  put  you  to  very  great  inconvenience." 

The  impure,  dark  flush,  so  often  noticed  by  those  who  saw 
him  in  moments  of  excitement,  was  in  the  son-in-law's  face 
again.  Miles  could  see  that  he  had  in  some  way  taken  him 
xcry  much  by  surprise. 

"  Perhaps  this  is  not  just  what  you  anticipated." 

"  No,  it  is  not,"  said  Adolphus.  "  Why  did  n't  the  old  man 
demand  his  money  when  it  was  due  ?  I  had  it  for  him  then, 
you  remember." 

"Yes-  and  I  told  him  so.  His  reply  was  that  he  didn't 
want  it  then,  but  he  does  \vant  it  now." 


374  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

Adolphus  was  by  this  time  himself  again.  His  eyes  had 
been  suffused  and  flickering ;  but  he  now  turned,  and  in  his 
large,  candid  way  fixed  them  on  his  father-in  law. 

*'  I  have  made  no  provision  for  repaying  you  that  four 
thousand  dollars.  On  the  contrary,  I  've  got  to  advance  four 
thousand  for  you  within  a  week.  I  was  going  to  mention  the 
circumstance  to  you  yesterday,  but  our  conversation  took 
such  a  turn  that  I  thought  I  had  better  make  the  advance  and 
say  nothing  about  it." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about,"  Mr.  Fenway 
replied,  keeping  cool,  and  trying  not  to  show  how  much  he 
was  astonished.  "  If  I  understand  the  matter  between  us,  it 
amounts  simply  to  this, — that  you  owe  me  four  thousand 
dollars.     Is  n't  that  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no ! "  said  Adolphus,  with  a  smile.  "  You  owe  me 
four  thousand,  — or  will,  after  I  've  advanced  it  for  you." 

"  That 's  a  riddle.  All  I  know  is,  I  borrowed  four 
thousand  dollars  for  you  of  old  Carolus,  and  that  you  gave 
me  your  memorandum  for  it." 

"  Very  well.     Have  you  that  memorandum  with  you  ?  " 

"  I  have."  And  Miles  Fenway,  beginning  to  look  a  little 
pale,  produced  a  paper  from  his  pocket-book. 

In  the  intervals  of  their  conversation,  Adolphus  had  time 
to  think  of  a  good  many  things,  and  he  now  said  to  himself, 
"  He  is  determined  to  break  with  me  ;  he  was  inclined  that 
way  yesterday.  Now  Marian  has  gone  home  and  told  her 
stor}' ;  but  he  will  keep  that  in  the  background  until  he  has 
got  his  money.  It  's  all  a  lie  about  old  Carolus  want- 
ing it." 

Then,  as  Miles  was  glancing  his  eye  over  the  momoran- 
dum,  Adolphus  said  aloud, — 

"  If  I  remember  rightly,  I  specify  in  that  paper  the  object 
to  which  the  money  is  to  be  applied,  and  agree  to  return  it  to 
you,  at  your  option,  in  three  months,  or  give  you  the  benefit 


WHY    MILES    CALLED    ON    ADOLPHUS.  375 

of  the  investment,  as  an  equal  partner  with  my  uncle  and 
myself,  in  the  oil-land  purchase.     Is  n't  that  about  it  ?  " 

Miles  was  quite  pale  by  this  time  ;  but  he  still  kept  cool. 

"  That  is  about  it,"  he  said,  lifting  his  clear  gray  eyes  from 
the  paper  to  his  son-in-law's  affable  face.  "  But  you  know  I 
scouted  the  idea  of  my  being  a  partner,  or  of  making  an 
investment." 

"  So  you  did  at  first,  but  you  tacitly  assented  to  it  finally. 
And  when  at  the  expiration  of  three  months  I  offered  you 
your  money,  you  took,  as  I  supposed,  the  alternative,  and 
chose  to  let  it  stand  as  an  investment." 

"  Excuse  me  for  saying  it,"  Miles  answered  ;  "  but  I  can't 
believe  that  you  supposed  any  such  thing.  Whatever  this 
paper  may  say,"  —  striking  it  with  his  fingers,  —  "I  trusted 
to  your  word  of  honor;  and  you  remember  very  well  your  most 
positive  promise  that  I  should  never  be  called  upon  for  a  dol- 
lar; that,  although  you  had  credited  me  with  stock,  you 
would  take  it  off  my  hands  at  any  time." 

"  Yes,  I  said  something  of  that  sort,  I  remember.  And  I 
don't  say  that  I  won't  do  it  now ;  though,  after  what  you  have 
done,  or  permitted  to  be  done  on  your  premises,  and  with 
your  sanction,  to  discredit  and  injure  the  enterprise,  I  think  I 
might  claim  that  you  have  forfeited  the  right  to  remind  me  of 
any  such  promise.  If  I  engage  to  prevent  a  man  from  failing 
off  a  bridge,  and  he  not  only  undertakes  to  jump  off,  but  to 
pull  me  off  too,  I  think,  to  save  myself,  I  may  let  him  go  into 
the  water  without  many  scruples  of  conscience.  I  don't  say 
you  have  meant  to  do  just  that  sort  of  thing  ;  but  it  amounts 
to  that." 

With  this  little  speech,  which  he  flattered  himself  left  him 
master  of  the  situation,  Adolphus  crossed  his  legs  before  the 
fire,  rolled  over  on  the  arm  of  his  chair,  and  looked  com- 
posedly at  his  father-in-law.  Miles  pierced  him  with  his  seri- 
ous gray  eyes,  but  said  not  a  word. 


376  farnell's  folly. 

"  Now  just  see  how  I  am  situated,"  Adolphus  continued. 
"  Our  second  payment  is  overdue.  I  supposed  the  sales  of 
stocks  would  be  sufficient  to  meet  it,  but  the  revenue  from 
that  source  has  been  mostly  absorbed  in  boring  and  other 
expenses.  We  did  n't  propose  at  first  to  sink  wells  ;  but  it 
was  afterwards  decided  that  it  would  be  greatly  to  our  advan- 
tage to  do  so.  One  good  flowing  well,  and  we  can  have  every- 
thing our  own  way.  We  have  struck  oil,  but  not  in  sufficient 
quantity,  and  we  are  going  deeper.  Meanwhile  our  second 
payment  must  be  made.  I  have  been  getting  ready  to  do  my 
share  towards  that,  and  to  carry  your  share,  if  necessary. 
That,  you  see,  leaves  me  unprepared  to  help  you  about  taking 
up  Carolus's  note." 

"  Then  what  am  I  to  do  ?  "  Miles  inquired. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Adolphus,  coolly. 

After  a  pause,  Miles  said,  "  Am  I  to  understand  that  you 
refuse  to  do  anything  about  the  repayment  of  this  money 
which  I  borrowed  for  you.''  " 

"  No,  don't  understand  that  I  refuse,  but  that  I  don't  see 
how  I  am  able  to  help  you  just  now." 

"  And  you  have  nothing  more  to  say  ?  " 

"  Nothing  on  that  point,  —  at  least,  until  I  have  consulted 
my  uncle,"  Mr.  Daskill  added,  wishing,  for  his  own  advantage 
in  making  terms  for  Marian's  return  to  him,  to  leave  the  door 
of  reconciliation  open  a  little  way. 

"Then  I  don't  see  but  that  I  have  come  on  a  wild-goose 
chase,  and  may  as  well  wade  back  through  the  snow  again." 

Mr.  Fenway  got  up  and  took  his  hat,  —  hesitated,  —  then 
turned,  and  said  to  his  son-in-law,  who  was  still  seated,  — 

"  How  is  Marian  this  morning  ?  " 

Adolphus  looked  ujd  with  an  Incredulous  smile. 

"  I  've  been  expecting  jou  to  tell  me  how  she  is,"  he 
replied. 

"  Is   this  another   of  your  riddles  ? ''   said   Miles,  standing 


WHY    MILES    CALLED    ON    ADOLPHUS.  377 

with  his  back  to  the  fire,  and  gazing  down  on  his  son-in-law 
with  a  guileless,  melancholy  expression.  "  I  don't  wish  to 
mix  her  up  in  these  matters  of  business  between  you  and  me, 
so  I  haven't  asked  to  see  her;  I  did  n't  wish  to  see  her  this 
morning,  unless  you  and  I  could  first  come  to  an  under- 
standing. Her  happiness  is  of  more  consequence  than  our 
business  interests.  Whatever  happens,  we  will  agree  in 
that." 

Adolphus  could  no  longer  doubt  the  sincerity  of  the  man 
speaking  in  these  tones  of  the  daughter  he  loved.  He  rose, 
and  stood  confronting  him,  —  a  rather  short,  stocky  figure, 
compared  with  the  tall,  lanky  Miles  (the  way  Daskill  usually 
carried  himself  made  him  appear  at  least  a  head  taller  than 
he  really  was),  —  and  answered,  with  visible  anxiety,  — 

"We  will  agree  in  that,  certainly.  I  thought  it  was  in  her 
behalf  that  you  had  come  this  morning." 

Miles  was  alarmed.     "  Where  is  she  ?  " 

"  If  she  is  n't  at  your  house,  God  knows,  —  I  don't." 

"  At  my  house  ?  I  have  n't  seen  her  for  a  week  !  Is  n't 
she  —  my  daughter  Marian,  your  wife,  —  is  n't  she  here  ?  " 

"  No.  She  went  away,  without  my  knowledge,  some  time 
between  eight  o'clock  and  eleven,  last  night.  She  left  a  note 
on  her  table,  saying  she  was  going  home." 

Miles  was  in  a  maze.     "  How  was  she  to  get  home  .^  " 

"  I  don't  know.  As  soon  as  I  discovered  that  she  was 
gone,  I  went  after  her,  and  explored  the  way  as  far  as  to  your 
gate  ;  seeing  no  light  in  the  house,  I  concluded  she  had  got 
there  early  ni  the  evening,  and  gone  to  bed." 

"She  hasn't  been  home  at  all;  she  couldn't  have  got 
home,  such  a  night  as  last  night,  — certainly,  not  without  help. 
Did  anybody  call  for  her  .<*  " 

"  Not  to  my  knowledge." 

"  She  went  alone,  — on  foot .''  What  could  have  driven  her 
out  in  such  a  storm  ?  " 


3/8  farnell's  folly. 

"  That 's  the  mystery,"  said  Adolphus.  "  We  had  had  some 
words  on  an  unpleasant  subject,  but  nothing  unkind  on  my 
part,  and  I  can't  conceive  why  she  should  have  taken  such  a 
step." 

iMiles  forbore  to  speak  for  a  moment.  Then  he  said, 
"  Show  me  the  note  she  left." 

Adolphus,  after  a  little  hesitation,  produced  it.  Any  con- 
cealment with  regard  to  that,  he  was  aware,  would  be  useless, 
and  might  lead  to  unpleasant  complications.  The  father's 
fingers  trembled  as  he  put  on  his  spectacles,  and  there  seemed 
to  be  a  strange  mistiness  about  the  glasses  as  he  read  his 
daughter's  farewell  words. 

"  What  woman  does  she  allude  to  .?  " 

"  Mrs.  Chilgrove.  There  has  been  some  trouble  between 
them.  Marian  —  unreasonably,  I  thought  —  insisted  on  her 
leaving  the  house.  Mrs.  Chilgrove  has  n't  the  pleasantest  man- 
ners in  the  world,  but  she  is  extremely  useful —  I  might  say 
indispensable  —  to  my  son,  and  I  begged  Marian  to  bear  with 
her,  at  least  until  I  could  get  somebody  to  take  her  place.  I 
had  no  doubt  but  she  would,  after  a  little  consideration,  agree 
to  this ;  and  I  was  never  more  astonished  than  when  I  found 
she  had  quitted  the  house." 

Adolphus  had  made  up  his  mind  that  candor  was  his  cue, 
and  he  played  his  part  admirably.  But  the  open,  convincing 
manner  of  him  did  not  convince  Mr.  Fenway. 

"  Mr.  Daskill,"  said  Miles,  as  he  handed  back  the  paper, 
"  I  have  suspected  for  some  time  that  everything  was  not  right 
between  you  and  Marian.  I  know  nothing  of  what  the  trou- 
ble has  been."  He  returned  his  spectacles  to  their  case,  and 
the  case  to  his  pocket.  "  But  I  know  her  disposition.  With 
love  and  kindness,  you  could  do  anything  with  her ;  and  only 
some  great  wrong  or  cruelty  could  ever  have  driven  her  to 
leave  your  house.  You  have  not  made  her  happy;  her  mar- 
riage has  been   a  bitter  disappointment  to  me  ;  and  now,  if 


WHY    MILES    CALLED    ON    ADOLPHUS.  379 

last  night  has  put  an  end  to  miseries  she  was  not  fitted  to 
bear  —  " 

Miles  paused  a  moment,  his  voice  choked,  his  countenance 
agitated  with  powerful  emotions.     Then  he  resumed  :  — 

"  I  can  forgive  you  for  dragging  mc  into  your  ruinous  spec- 
ulations, and  robbing  my  family  of  a  few  thousand  dollars.  I 
did  n't  mean  to  have  any  quarrel  with  you  about  that.  I  came 
here  this  morning  resolved,  for  her  sake,  to  have  peace.  But 
if  you  have  broken  my  poor  girl's  heart,  —  if  you  have  mur- 
dered her,  as  I  fear  you  have,  —  there  is  no  peace  for  you, 
God  will  judge  you,  God  will  judge  you,  Adolphus  Daskill !  " 

So  saying,  he  turned  to  go.  Adolphus,  who  had  stood 
quite  silent  while  he  was  speaking,  recovered  his  speech 
quickly,  as  he  accompanied  him  to  the  door. 

"  I  don't  wonder,"  he  said,  "  that  you  feel  as  you  do.  It  is 
very  alarming,  very  distressing,  this  conduct  of  hers.  I  "11  go 
with  you  and  look  for  her.  I  am  sure  she  must  have  found 
shelter  somewhere." 

Miles  did  not  wait  for  him,  but  went  on  before,  taking  long 
strides  through  the  snow;  Adolphus,  as  became  his  greater 
dignity  and  lesser  legs,  following  on  horseback. 


380  FARNELLS    FOLLY. 


CHAPTER   XLIV. 

HOW    THE    LOST    ONE    WAS    FOUND. 

Very  different  must  have  been  the  feelings  of  the  two  men, 
starting  off  on  that  dubious  quest  for  the  lost  girl.  Under  all 
the  father's  terrible  anxiety,  there  was  a  solemn  sense  of  resig- 
nation to  the  calamity  he  feared,  and  for  which  he  tried  to 
prepare  himself  by  saying  constantly,  "  The  Lord  giveth  and 
the  Lord  taketh  away ;  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord ! " 
Much  as  he  dreaded  the  worst  (or  what  is  commonly  deemed 
the  worst),  he  knew  well  that  there  might  be  far  worse  things 
in  the  world  for  his  poor  girl  than  death. 

It  would  be  a  satisfaction  to  know  that  the  husband  felt  no 
less  grief  and  pity,  but  I  fear  that  the  solicitude  he  showed 
was  quite  as  much  on  his  own  account  as  Marian's.  Amid  all 
his  other  emotions,  whatever  they  may  have  been,  there  was 
room  for  much  disgust  and  rage  at  the  publicity  of  the  affair, 
which  was  now  inevitable. 

When  Mr.  Fenway  said  to  him,  in  a  calm  and  gentle  voice, 
"If  you,  Mr.  Daskill,  will  ride  over  to  Mr.  Merrifield's  and 
make  inquiries,  I  will  stop  at  Warton's,"  the  haughty  one 
drew  rein. 

Merrifield's  and  Warton's  were  the  nearest  houses,  — 
Merrifield's,  a  mere  hut,  a  few  rods  back  from  the  road.  To 
ride  across  through  the  levels  of  untrodden  snow,  knock  at  the 
door,  and  ask  the  occupants  if  they  had  given  refuge  during 
the  night  to  the  wife  his  cruelty  had  driven  out  of  doors,  was 
a  pretty  hard  thing  for  Adolphus  ;  but  he  did  it,  disguising  the 
ugly  facts  in  as  fair  and  plausible  terms  as  he  could  command. 


HOW    THE    LOST    OSE    WAS    FOUND.  38 1 

Neither  at  Warton's  nor  Merrifield's  had  Marian  been  seen 
or  heard  from  ,  and  now  the  quest  must  be  carried  further. 
Miles  went  on  to  secure  aid  in  the  village,  while  Adolphus 
remained  to  ride  up  and  down  through  the  drifts,  searching 
miserably  for  he  dreaded  to  think  what,  not  a  little  exasper- 
ated by  the  questions  concerning  the  hour,  the  manner,  and 
the  reason  of  Marian's  leaving  his  house,  with  others  touching 
his  domestic  affairs,  bawled  at  him  across  the  snow  by  War- 
ton's  big  boys,  who  had  come  out  to  shovel  tracks.  Snow- 
bound as  Waybrook  was,  the  startling  news  of  Mrs.  Daskill's 
disappearance  quickly  pierced  its  muffled  ears,  and  set  it  all 
agog  with  curiosity  and  excitement.  Men  clearing  doorsteps 
shouted  it  to  each  other  ;  path-making  boys,  wallowing  from 
house  to  house,  carried  it  ;  women  screamed  it  from  window 
to  window  across  the  wa}\ 

Then,  almost  as  suddenly,  spread  the  news  that  she  was 
found. 

After  William  Rayburn,  in  Miles  Fenway's  sleigh,  had 
passed  the  spot  where  Marian  called  in  vain  from  the  wayside 
field,  and  was  driving  on  towards  the  village,  the  horse,  toil- 
ing through  an  uncommonly  deep  drift,  all  at  once  came  to 
a  halt. 

"Very  well,  old  boy;  rest  awhile,"  said  \N'il!.  "Then  one 
more  pull,  and  we  are  home." 

The  rest  was  longer  than  either  he  or  the  tired  animal  an- 
ticipated. For  now,  the  sound  of  bells  being  no  longer  borne 
to  her  on  the  blast,  Marian  —  in  the  wild  hope  that  the  sleigh 
had  stopped,  and  the  wilder  fear  that  it  would  go  on  again  — 
put  forth  one  final  frantic  effort  to  make  herself  heard.  She 
staggered  forward  through  the  snow,  fell,  and  partly  rose 
again,  struggling  on  with  hands  and  feet,  all  the  while  utter- 
ing shriek  upon  shriek. 

Then  came  an  answering  shout,  sounding  quite  loud  and 
near  •  for  though  Will  had  not  yet  left  the  cutter,  the  wind  was 


382  farnell's  folly. 

blowing  almost  directly  from  him  to  her.  Then  there  was  a 
lull.  He  listened,  heard  another  cry,  and,  dropping  the  reins, 
plunged  into  the  drifts  in  the  direction  whence  it  came. 

Just  as  Marian  sank  down  with  a  last  smothered  cry,  he 
reached  her  side.  He  had  not  any  idea  who  she  was,  even 
when  he  lifted  her  up.  But  she  had  recognized  his  voice. 
She  knew  that  she  was  saved,  and  by  whom.  She  was  weep- 
ing and  sobbing  in  a  faint,  hysterical  v,'ay,  and  he  was  support- 
ing her,  brushing  the  snow  from  her  face  and  garments,  when 
the  truth  w'as  suddenly  revealed  to  him  :  it  was  Marian  he 
held  in  his  arms. 

There  was  no  time  for  questions  or  explanations.  Half 
bearing,  half  dragging  her,  he  made  his  way  back  as  best  he 
could  to  the  cutter,  shook  the  snow  out  of  her  clothing,  and 
wrapped  her  in  the  robe.  All  this  seemed  to  him  like  a  terri- 
ble dream. 

Then  he  asked  where  she  was  going  ;  and  should  he  take 
her  home  ? 

"  Yes  —  no  —  O  William  !  "  she  said,  "  I  have  no  home  !  I 
am  an  outcast.  No,  no ,  don't  take  me  back  there  to  his 
house." 

With  unspeakable  tenderness  he  drew  the  covering  more 
closely  about  her,  and  drove  on  towards  the  village.  He 
could  feel  her  sobbing  under  the  robe. 

"  Poor  Marian  !  "  he  said,  putting  his  face  down  to  her, 
"  be  comforted  :  you  are  safe  now." 

"  Heaven  sent  you  to  me,  William  !  "  she  replied  in  a  burst 
of  grateful  emotion. 

"Yes,  I  think  so.  This  is  your  father's  cutter  you  are  in. 
How  long  have  you  been  out  in  the  storm  ?  " 

"I  don't  know.  It  was  dreadful!  I  had  given  up  that  I 
must  die.  And  only  a  little  while  before  I  had  been  wishing 
for  death.     Oh,  that  woman,  that  woman,  William  !  " 

"You  mean  Mrs.  Chilerove  ?     It  is  what  I  feared." 


HOW    THE    LOST    ONE    WAS    FOUND.  383 

"  But  it  is  worse  —  oh  !  oh  !  a  hundred  times  worse  than 
you  can  think.  I  can  never  go  to  my  husband  again.  I  have 
no  husband.     S/ie  has  taken  him  from  me." 

WilHam  had  to  put  his  face  down  into  the  robe  which  en- 
wrapped her,  in  order  to  make  out  these  broken  words,  amidst 
the  pelting  and  blustering  of  the  storm.  She  was  sobbing 
again  with  anguish  of  body  and  soul.  He  hardly  knew  what 
to  say. 

"No,  Marian,"  he  replied,  —  and  there  was  hope  and  com- 
fort for  her  in  the  deep  kindness  of  his  tones,  if  not  in  the 
words  he  spoke,  — "  she  cannot  have  taken  him  from  you. 
How  can  he  give  jf?^  up  for  her?  He  will  come  to  himself; 
he  will  wish  to  have  you  back  again,  at  any  sacrifice." 

She  was  willing  enough  to  believe  this.  Yet  she  would  not 
have  had  him  say  it  with  such  wholly  disinterested  confidence, 
but  would  have  better  liked  worse  counsel.  He  had  saved 
her  from  death  :  would  he  not  also  save  her  from  despair  ? 
was  he  not  her  destiny  .-' 

He  urged  on  the  jaded  horse  as  fast  as  possible,  and  they 
were  by  this  time  near  her  father's  house.  She  foresaw  the 
consternation  of  her  parents  at  sight  of  her,  coming  to  them 
on  such  a  night  and  for  such  cause.  She  dreaded  more  and 
more  her  mother's  fright  and  furious  indignation  ;  and,  when 
they  stopped  at  the  gate,  finding  that  the  lights  in  the  house 
were  extinguished,  and  the  inmates  probably  abed,  her 
heart  failed  her  altogether. 

William  would  gladly  have  taken  her  home  and  given  her 
shelter  beneath  his  mother's  roof.  But,  courageous  as  he  was 
to  brave  the  world's  censure  of  his  own  conduct,  he  felt  a 
maidenly  timidity  on  her  account.  If  she  should  accept  that 
refuge,  who  would  believe  his  rescue  of  her  to  have  been 
accidental  and  innocent  ?    Not  Adolphus  Daskill,  for  one. 

Yet  he,  too,  shrank  from  rousing  up  Miles  Fenway,  and  tell- 
ing the  news  which  might  better  be  postponed  until  morning. 


384  farnell's  folly. 

What  then  should  be  done  ?  It  was  a  matter  to  be  decided 
quickly,  and  he  thought  of  Lottie.  But  Marian  said,  "  Take 
nie  to  Julia  :  she  has  begged  me  to  come  to  her." 

"  Yes,  that  will  be  best."  For  where  could  she  find 
another  so  discreet  and  faithful  friend  ? 

He  urged  on  the  unwilling  horse.  And  now  it  occurred  to 
him  that  Marian  might  perhaps  make  up  her  quarrel  with  her 
husband  before  even  her  own  family  knew  that  a  quarrel  had 
occurred. 

There  was  fortunately  a  light  in  Mr,  Farnell's  sitting-room. 
Julia  was  there,  sewing  for  the  family ;  all  the  rest  had 
retired.  Hearing  a  muffled  knock  at  the  door,  she  appeared, 
bearing  a  lamp,  and  beheld  with  astonishment  Will's  icicled 
beard  and  red  face  peer  from  his  snow-covered  garments, 
while  he  briefly  announced  his  strange  business. 

"  Julia,  I  have  brought  Marian  to  you.  Can  you  take 
her  in?" 

He  scarcely  waited  for  her  reply,  but  plunged  again  into 
the  snow.  She  held  the  door  open,  having  set  the  lamp  on 
the  stairs,  and  saw,  by  the  dim  rays  which  streamed  forth  into 
the  hoary  chaos  and  wild  vortex  of  the  strom,  a  horse  and 
sleigh  faintly  outlined,  and  a  shape  which  Will  lifted  and 
bore  up  the  steps.  The  loosened  sleigh-robe  fell  off,  and 
Marian  slid  helplessly  into  the  arms  of  her  friend. 

"  Why,  Marian  !  where  have  you  been  .''  "  said  Julia,  in  a 
whisper  of  amazement  and  commiseration. 

"  I  picked  her  up  in  the  storm,"  Will  explained,  as  they 
hastily  took  her  into  the  warm  sitting-room.  "  She  will  tell 
you  more  than  she  has  told  me.  She  must  be  made  dry  and 
warm  as  soon  as  possible.  Have  you  hot  water,  —  spirits  of 
any  kind  ?    Let  me  get  them  !  " 

There  was  hot  water  on  the  kitchen  stove.  Ward  Farnell's 
decanter  was  near  by  on  the  table,  where  he  had  left  it  when 
he  mixed  his  toddy  before  going  to   bed.     While  Julia  was 


HOW    THE    LOST    ONE    WAS    FOUND.  385 

removing  Marian's  outer  garments,  Will  prepared  a  glass, 
which  he  brought  and  held  to  her  lips.  She  drank,  and  in  the 
midst  of  her  suffering,  gave  him  a  look  of  grateful  affection. 

"  What  should  I  do  if  it  were  not  for  you  two  ?  "  she  mur- 
mured.     "You  are  both  so  good  to  me  !  " 

No  time  was  to  be  lost  in  getttng  off  her  clothing,  which 
clung  to  her,  stiff  with  ice  or  damp  with  melting  snow  ;  and 
Will,  anxious  as  he  was  to  do  her  further  service,  hastened  to 
take  leave.  She  held  out  her  hand  to  him,  with  a  sweet,  sad, 
suffering  smile.  He  pressed  it  with  ineffable  tenderness,  —  it 
had  once  been  so  dear  to  him,  and  it  was  such  a  cold  little 
hand  now  ! 

"  Do  you  remember  when  I  first  met  you  in  this  room. 
Will  ?  "  she  said,  with  touching  pathos. 

He  stood  silent,  with  quivering  lips.  The  old,  beautiful 
dream  came  back,  —  all  the  hope,  and  love,  and  passionate 
sorrow,  at  least  in  memor}' ;  and  now  the  sight  of  her,  the 
delicate,  crushed  flower  of  girlhood  that  so  lately  filled  his  life 
with  fragrance,  was  too  much  even  for  his  strong  will  and 
calm  philosophy.  He  dropped  a  tear  on  the  little  hand,  and 
turned  away  with  a  stifled  sob.  The  outer  door  opened  and 
closed  again,  and  the  two  girls  were  left  alone. 


as 


386  farnell's  folly. 


CHAPTER   XLV. 

HOW    MRS.    FENWAY    RECEIVED    THE    NEWS. 

Will  was  at  the  shop  the  next  morning  shovelling  the  snow 
from  before  the  office  door  when  the  alarm  caused  by  Marian's 
disappearance  ran  through  the  village.  He  dropped  every- 
thing and  started  for  Mr.  Fenway's  house,  now  running  where 
the  way  had  been  cleared  and  now  floundering  in  the  drifts, 
and  announcing  to  every  one  he  saw  that  the  missing  one  was 
safe. 

Miles  had  just  reached  home  with  his  news  when  Will  ar- 
rived with  his.  He  found  wild  panic  m  the  Fenway  household, 
—  Frank  calling  his  dog  to  start  off  on  a  hunt  for  his  sister  ; 
Walter  in  the  front  entry  with  his  snow-shovel,  the  door  wide 
open ;  the  mother  questioning  her  husband  in  the  greatest 
terror  and  bewilderment ;  eyes  and  ivory  of  black  Nance 
gleaming  with  excitement  in  the  background;  Miles  alone 
self-possessed,  though  strongly  agitated,  as  he  told  his  story. 

Will  walked  in  without  ceremony,  and,  for  the  first  time 
since  his  affair  with  Marian  was  broken  off,  confronted  Mrs. 
Fenway  in  her  own  house.  He  was  not  the  person  she  most 
wished  to  see  at  such  a  time.     She  turned  upon  him  sharply. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  she  cried.  "  O  William ! "  her  angry 
tone  suddenly  breaking,  while  grief  convulsed  her  white  and 
frightened  face,  "  our  trouble  is  ver}'  great.  You  can  triumph 
in  it  if  you  will." 

The  young  man  replied,  "  She  is  found,  she  is  safe ;  that  is 
what  I  have  come  to  tell  you." 

"Marian? "  screamed  Mrs.  Fenway,  rushing  upon  him  with 


HOW  MRS.  f?:nway  received  the  news.        387 

wild  joy,  which  could  hardly  be  distinguished  from  rage. 
"Where  is  she?" 

"At  Julia  Farnell's." 

Poor  Mrs.  Fenway  dropped  upon  the  sofa  with  sobbing 
laughter.  Miles  stepped  forward  and  grasped  William's 
hand. 

"  How  did  you  hear  this  ?  " 

"I  haven't  heard  it  at  all.  I  found  her  myself  as  I  was 
driving  home  last  night.  Your  lights  were  out,  so  I  took  her 
on  to  Julia's." 

"  You  found  her,  —  how  ?  " 

"  She  was  lost  in  the  snow,  —  strayed  out  of  the  road.  The 
horse  stopped,  and  I  heard  her  cry." 

Once  more  Mrs.  Fenway  sprang  upon  him,  her  eyes  flash- 
ing through  tears. 

"And  why  did  n't  you  come  and  tell  us  at  once,  and  save 
us  from  this  —  all  this  —  "  She  couldn't  find  the  word  she 
wanted,  but  a  sob  came  instead. 

"It  was  to  save  you  from  what  I  knew  would  distress  you 
that  I  did  n't  come,''  William  replied. 

'•I  understand,"  said  Miles.  "You  did  right.  We  might 
not  have  heard  of  it  at  all,  if  I  had  n't  gone  up  to  Mr.  Das- 
kill's  this  morning  on  business." 

"  What  business,  I  'd  like  to  know .?  "  Mrs.  Fenway  de- 
manded.    "  You  never  told  me  you  were  going." 

"  No,  I  hoped  it  might  be  settled  without  your  being  made 
anxious  about  it.  But  I  don't  see  much  chance  of  it  now,  and 
you  may  as  well  know  that  Mr.  Carolus  is  after  his  money, 
and  that  Mr.  Daskill  refused  to  pay  it  this  morning.  Then  it 
came  out  that  Marian  had  left  him." 

"  She  has  n't  left  h.im  !  I  won't  have  it  that  she  has  left 
him  !  Though  what  she  was  out  in  the  storm  for  is  more 
than  I  know.  My  poor  child !  Oh,  that  Adolphus  Das- 
kill!" 


388  farnell's  folly. 

■  She  raved  a  moment,  then  suddenly  changed  her  tone  again. 

"  As  kind  a  husband  as  ever  was.  They  are  very  fond  of 
each  other,  William,  whatever  you  may  think.  If  there  had 
been  anything  wrong,  I  'm  sure  I  should  have  known  it.  I  '11 
go  right  over  to  Julia's.  Lost  in  the  snow,  poor  child !  Oh, 
these  men,  these  men  !  Of  course  Mr.  Daskill  will  pay  that 
money ,  he  's  the  soul  of  honor.  What  wrong  could  there 
have  been  that  Mrs.  Chilgrove  would  n't  have  known  of  and 
told  me,  as  she  promised  ?  " 

Talking  in  this  way,  Mrs.  Fenway  brought  out  her  bonnet 
and  shawl  and  was  putting  them  on. 

"  I  hope  3'ou  have  n't  been  duped  by  that  woman,"  said 
Miles.  "  If  I  understand  it,  she  is  the  cause  of  Marian's 
trouble.  I  believe  she  has  been  plotting  this  thing  for  a  long 
while." 

Miles,  who  so  seldom  spoke  ill  of  anybody,  expressed  this 
opinion  of  Mrs.  Chilgrove  in  a  most  emphatic  manner.  Then 
suddenly  a  terrible  conviction  came  home  to  the  heart  of 
Mrs.  Fenway,  and  once  more,  with  her  bonnet-strings  half 
tied,  she  sank  on  the  sofa.  The  woman  she  had  heard  talk- 
ing with  Adolphus  that  night  when  she  was  shut  up  in  the 
Folly  and  was  called  by  him  a  silly  old  fool ;  the  woman 
Nance  had  seen  with  him  in  the  woods  ;  that  mysterious  be- 
ing whom  she  had  sought  in  vain  to  discover,  and  finally  en- 
gaged Mrs.  Chilgrove's  help  in  hunting  down,  was — there 
could  be  no  doubt  of  it  —  Mrs.  Chilgrove  herself. 

"  The  hussy  !  to  hoodwink  me  !  "  she  said,  bouncing  up 
again  and  starting  for  the  door. 

"Where  are  you  going?  "  said  Miles. 

"I  'm  going  to  my  child." 

"You  can't  get  there:  the  tracks  are  not  broken,  and 
scarcely  a  path  is  shovelled." 

"  I  'm  going  to  my  child  !  "  Mrs.  Fenway  repeated. 

But,  having  got  to  the  end  of  Walter's  excavation  before 


HOW    MRS.    FENWAY    RECEIVED    THE    NEWS.  389 

the  house,  she  paused  before  the  formidable  drifts  that 
blocked  the  way. 

"  Oh,  if  I  had  wings  !  "  she  cried,  with  frantic  impatience. 
But,  not  having  wings,  she  was  forced  to  return  into  the  house 
and  let  him  go  in  her  place. 

"Come  back  at  once,"  she  commanded,  "and  tell  me  every- 
thing. I  am  dying  to  hear  from  her,  —  the  poor,  dear  child  ! 
William  !  William  Rayburn  !  Don't  go.  I  want  to  speak 
with  you." 

So  William  had  to  go  back  into  the  sitting-room  and  tell 
her  all  the  circumstances  of  his  finding  and  rescuing  Marian. 
She  interrupted  him  with  outbursts  of  grief,  remorse,  and  rage. 

"  She  must  have  been  crazy  to  try  to  get  home  in  such  a 
storm.  Nance,  shut  that  door  and  go  to  your  dishes.  My 
poor,  dear,  broken-hearted  Marian  !  I  don't  see  but  what  you 
acted  like  a  Christian,  William ;  and  it  was  very  delicate  in 
you  not  to  try  to  get  from  her  —  Frank,  why  don't  you  go  and 
help  Walter  shovel  out  that  path  ?  But  I  wish  she  had  told 
you  more ,  for,  as  a  friend  of  the  family,  I  am  sure  you  can 
be  trusted.  O  William  !  she  has  n't  been  happy,  that  I  know. 
I  've  thought,  many  a  time,  that  perhaps  I  did  wrong  in  giving 
my  consent  to  her  marriage." 

At  the  word  "consent,"  Will  smiled.  She  wiped  her  eyes 
and  went  on. 

"  But  we  are  not  always  wise.  Oh,  if  I  had  only  seen 
things  a  year  ago  as  I  see  them  now.  I  have  been  deceived, 
—  wickedly  deceived." 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Fenway,"  said  Will,  "  you  have  been  deceived, 
but  by  nobody  more  than  by  yourself.  You  knew,  or  might 
have  known,  many  things  which  you  did  not  wish  to  know, 
and  would  not  believe." 

"That  is  true,  that  is  true.  I  was  blind,  blind,  because 
I  would  n't  see.  I  felt  all  the  while  that  there  was  something 
false   about   Mr.   Daskill,  —  he  was  so  full  of  fine  promises, 


390  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

which  he  never  kept.  And  I  knew  there  was  something 
wrong,  but  I  kept  it  to  myself  and  let  the  marriage  go  on. 
Oh,  the  perfidy  of  that  woman  !  " 

Mr.  Fenway  now  came  in  looking  grave  and  troubled.  His 
wife  flew  to  him  with  anxious  inquiries. 

"  You  need  n't  go,  William,"  said  Miles.  "  I  don't  know  of 
anybody  better  entitled  to  our  confidence  than  you  are  ;  and 
I,  for  one,  need  your  advice  and  sympathy." 

Will  had  never  seen  the  strong  man  so  shaken.  Feeling 
himself  not  much  more  than  a  boy  beside  him,  the  thought  of 
one  he  so  loved  and  reverenced  clinging  to  him  for  support 
touched  him  deeply. 

"  Yes,"  Miles  went  on,  in  response  to  his  wife's  eager  ques- 
tions, "  I  have  seen  her.  But  I  did  not  talk  with  her  much ; 
she  is  weak  and  feverish,  and  the  sight  of  me  seemed  to  over- 
come her.  She  will  not  leave  her  bed  to-day,  nor  to-morrow, 
I  fear.  Fortunately,  it  is  Saturday,  and  Julia  has  no  school 
to  call  her  away.  Marian  could  not  speak  of  her,  —  nor  of 
you,  William,  —  without  tears." 

"  I  '11  make  Julia  a  handsome  present,"  Mrs.  Fenway  de- 
clared. "  She  deserves  one,  if  ever  a  girl  did.  What  did  you 
learn  about  the  trouble  ?  " 

"I  got  a  little  from  Marian,  and  a  good  deal  more  from 
Julia;  and  it  seems  that  Mrs.  Chilgrove  and  Mr.  Daskill  knew 
each  other  long  before  either  of  them  came  to  this  town,  where 
they  met  as  strangers.  Julia's  friend,  Mr.  Rocknam,  knew  of 
\he  old  intrigue,  and  recognized  Mrs.  Chilgrove  when  he  was 
here  in  October." 

Thereupon  Mrs.  Fenway,  seeing  how  much  worse  things 
were  than  she  had  suspected,  and  how  completely  she  had 
been  duped,  burst  forth  into  a  frenzy  of  invective  against  Mrs. 
Chilgrove,  Mr.  Daskill,  and  her  own  stupid  self,  in  the  midst 
of  which  Walter  put  his  head  in  at  the  door,  and  announced 
that  Mr.  Daskill  was  coming. 


HOW    MRS.    FENWAY    RECEIVED    THE    NEWS.  39 1 

"  Let  him  come  ! "  cried  the  angry  little  lady,  rushing  to 
the  window,  where  she  saw  Adolphus  ride  up  to  the  gate  and 
dismount  with  the  old  arrogant  air  that  distinguished  him. 
"  See  him  strut  and  throw  his  head  back,  as  if  he  was  lord  of 
creation,  and  all  the  rest  of  us  his  abject  slaves  !  He  '11  tind 
out !  I  've  a  dose  for  him  !  "' 

"  I  beg  of  you,"  said  Miles,  "  don't  give  way  to  your  tem- 
per, and  make  matters  worse  than  they  are." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  won't  give  way  to  my  temper,  — oh,  no  !  I  '11  be 
sweet  with  him  ;  I  '11  cringe  and  fawn,  as  I  have  many  a  time 
when  I  could  have  scratched  his  eyes  out  !  "  —  ending  with  a 
little  laugh  that  boded  no  good  to  Adolphus. 


392  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 


CHAPTER   XLVI. 

ADOLPHUS   GOES   TO    FETCH    MARIAN    HOME. 

Entering  the  room  as  Will  left  it,  Mr,  Daskill  found  Miles 
sitting  grave  and  silent  in  a  chair,  and  Mrs.  Fenway  on  the 
sofa,  stifling  her  sighs,  compressing  her  lips,  and  appearing 
angrily  oblivious  of  his  existence. 

"  I  am  told  that  Marian  is  here,"  said  Adolphus,  addressing 
himself  to  Miles. 

"  It  is  a  mistake ;  she  is  not  here,"  Mr.  Fenway  replied, 
without  moving  from  his  chair  or  offering  one  to  his  son-in- 
law,  —  a  marked  instance  of  neglect  in  one  so  uniformly  cour- 
teous. 

Adolphus  appeared  surprised. 

"  Have  n't  you  seen  her  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  have  just  come  from  an  interview  with  her." 

"Where.''"  Getting  no  immediate  response,  Mr,  Daskill 
added,  "  I  suppose  I  have  a  right  to  know." 

"  I  don't  know  that  you  have.  That  she  is  alive  now,  we 
have  not  you  to  thank.  Your  conduct — which  I  will  not 
characterize — drove  her  out  of  your  house  in  last  night's  storm, 
when  she  came  near  losing  her  life,  and  would  certainly  have 
lost  it,  if  it  had  n't  been  for  the  young  man  you  just  saw  going 
out  from  here." 

Purple,  even  to  the  appearance  of  suffocation,  grew  the 
visage  of  Adolphus,  who,  after  struggling  for  a  moment  to 
get  the  better,  as  it  were,  of  a  too  closely  fitting  neck-cloth, 
answered  huskily,  — 

"  I  suppose  I  can  guess,  then,  where  she  is.  And  of  course 
I  must  think  there  was  an  understanding  between  them.     She 


ADOLPHUS  GOES  TO  FETCH  MARIAN  HOME.    393 

was  not  a  girl  to  go  out  into  such  a  storm  without  knowing 
pretty  well  what  was  to  become  of  her.  That 's  what  his  sav- 
ing her  life  amounts  to." 

Before  Miles  could  answer  his  son-in-law,  Mrs.  Fenway 
rushed  in  between  them  with  a  fierce  little  fist  and  a  shriek. 

"Sir!  Mr.  Daskill !  you  think  our  daughter  that  kind  of 
girl,  do  you  "i '' 

"  It  would  seem  so,"  said  Adolphus  coolly,  "  since  she  al- 
lowed him  to  meet  her  and  take  her  home." 

"  Take  her  home?     You  mean  to  his  home  ?" 

"That's  what  I  understand." 

"  You  understand  the  most  outrageous  falsehood  ever  in- 
vented by  a  false  and  cruel  husband  !  "  cried  the  little  lady. 
"It  is  of  a  piece  with  all  the  rest  of  your  conduct  towards 
this  family.  There  ! "  She  fluttered  in  his  face,  like  an  in- 
furiated matron  of  the  poultry-yard  that  sees  her  brood  at- 
tacked. "  Now  you  know  what  I  think  of  you,  Adolphus  Das- 
kill. She  was  dying  when  William  Rayburn  found  her.  Then 
where  else  should  he  take  her,  but  to  her  friend,  who  had 
exposed  your  wrong-doings  ?  There  she  is  now,  sick  abed,  — 
a  wretched,  outraged,  broken-hearted  wife!  —  at  Julia  Far- 
nell's,  if  you  wish  to  know." 

"  Then  I  may  as  well  go  there  and  find  her,"  said  Adolphus 
haughtily. 

"  You  may  as  well  keep  away,  sir  ;  she  is  not  able  to  see 
you.     She  shall  not  see  you." 

"  You  forget,  madam,  that  she  is  my  wife." 

"  Oh,  would  I  couUiorgQi !  Would  I  coiildiorget  the  wrong 
and  insult  you  have  heaped  upon  this  family  !  "  And  Mrs. 
Fenway  went  off  in  a  storm  of  sobs  and  tears. 

"It  is  gratifying,  at  least,"  said  the  son-in-law,  "to  know 
what  my  wife's  mother  thinks  of  me." 

"You  may  as  well  know  it,"  Mrs.  Fenway  retorted,  over  her 
handkerchief.     "  To  think  how  you  came  mto  this  family,  and 


394  FARNELL  S   FOLLY. 

beguiled  our  only  daughter  into  marrying  you,  and  you  all  the 
time  in  relations  with  that  designing,  deceitful,  unprincipled 
creature,  that  you  afterwards  bamboozled  her  into  choosing 
for  a  companion." 

"  I  see  that  I  am  condemned,"  said  Adolphus,  standing  on 
his  dignity,  "  before  I  am  permitted  a  word  in  my  own  de- 
fence." 

"  I  've  no  doubt  but  you  have  a  tissue  of  lies  to  cover  up  your 
wickedness  ;  but  it  won't  avail,  it  won't  avail  with  me,  sir  !  I 
know  more  than  you  think.  1  have  long  known  of  your  secret 
connection  with  a  woman  —  I  have  seen  you  with  her,  sir  !  I 
have  overheard  your  talk  with  her  !  I  am  a  silly  fool,  am  I  ? 
Can  wind  me  around  your  little  finger,  can  you  ?  Nancy  has 
seen  you  with  her,  too,  since  you  were  married,  though  you 
tried  to  outface  her  in  it  with  your  threats  and  lies.  Oh,  if  I 
had  known  then  who  that  woman  was  !  " 

"  I  see  it  will  be  of  little  use  for  me  to  make  any  explana- 
tion," said  Adolphus, 

"Very  little  use  indeed,  sir  !  What  I  have  seen  with  my 
own  eyes  and  heard  with  my  own  ears  can't  be  easily  explained 
away.  Oh,  to  think  how  our  innocent  child  was  deceived  !  A 
girl  sought  after  as  she  was,  —  fairly  pestered  with  offers 
from  the  very  best  young  men,  —  and  might  have  made  the 
best  match  in  the  country!" 

"  You  seemed  to  think  she  was  making  a  very  good  match. 
At  any  rate,  you  have  yourself  to  thank  for  it." 

"  Ungrateful,  to  fling  that  into  my  teeth.  I  did  believe  you 
were  a  respectable  man,  Mr,  Daskill.  I  did  hope  you  would 
make  our  daughter  happy.  I  did  favor  you,  and  I  am  pun- 
ished for  it.  Oh,  your  smooth  words  and  fine  airs,  Adolphus 
Daskill !  they  were  enough  to  deceive  even  the  elect.  Member 
of  the  firm  of  Goldfinch  &  Co. !  while  now  it  turns  out  that 
you  are  not  a  member  of  the  firm  at  all,  and  I  doubt  if  you 
ever  were.     Your  grand  oil  speculation,  that  was   going  to 


ADOLPHUS  GOES  TO  FETCH  MARIAN  HOME.    395 

make  fortunes  for  all  of  us,  and  my  husband  need  n't  even 
put  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  but  all  his  outlay  would  be  met 
by  sales  of  stock ,  and  now  it  appears  that  the  stock  is  worth- 
less, and  he  has  that  note  of  Carolus's  to  pay.  Oh,  you  're  a 
fine  son  in-law !  " 

Notwithstanding  the  recent  panic  among  buyers,  Mrs.  Fen- 
way had  stoutly  stood  up  for  the  stock  until  this  moment. 
Miles  could  n't  help  smiling  at  this  instant  change  in  her 
opinion,  while  Adolphus  looked  black. 

"  If  there  is  a  temporary  depression  of  the  stock,  you  may 
blame  your  husband  for  it,"  he  answered  surlily.  "  I  can 
afford  it  if  he  can.  I  was  prepared  to  keep  my  engagement 
Avith  him  to  the  minutest  particular,  until  I  heard  how  he  had 
gone  back  on  me.     Now  let  him  stand  from  under." 

"  Adolphus  Daskill,  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Just  what  I  say,  madam.  He  has  indorsed  my  enemy 
and  injured  my  business.  You  condemn  me  unheard.  Now 
let  him  take  care  of  himself.  The  Carolus  note  is  a  small 
part  of  his  obligations.  I  hold  him  as  a  partner  in  the  enter- 
prise. Another  four  thousand  dollars  is  already  due  from 
him,  and  the  third  payment  of  four  thousand  will  be  due  in 
four  months.  Let  him  prepare  for  them  ;  why  should  I  put 
myself  out  on  his  account?  " 

Menacing,  belligerent,  stood  the  son-in-law  at  bay,  Mrs. 
Fenway  turned  pale  and  gasped  for  breath.  Miles  did  not 
try  to  conceal  his  deep  concern,  but  he  answered  calmly, — 

"  I  must  think  you  are  glad  of  an  excuse  to  break  yDur 
word  with  me,  Mr.  Daskill.  And  I  think  I  begin  to  under- 
stand your  scheme." 

"  Oh,  no,  you  don't  yet !  "  retorted  Adolphus,  with  an  ugly 
smile.  "  There  's  several  thousand  dollars  more,  for  expenses 
incurred.  My  uncle  and  I  have  advanced  everything  so  far. 
We  can't  carry  your  load  any  longer.  You  will  have  to  pay 
vour  share." 


396  farnell's  rOLLY. 

"  Mr.  Daskill,  this  is  preposterous.  You  can  never  hold 
me  as  a  partner." 

"  Can't  I  ?  I  have  plenty  of  proof.  Your  wife  has  kindly 
informed  everybody  of  the  fact ;  and  it  is  rather  late  for  you 
to  deny  it  after  the  enterprise  turns  out  to  be  unprofitable. 
One  third  of  the  stock  stands  in  your  name  on  the  books." 

"  What  has  been  done  with  the  money  raised  by  the  sale  of 
stock?     I  understood  that  was  to  meet  all  expenses." 

"  It  has  been  used  for  that  purpose.  But  that  was  my 
uncle's  stock  and  mine.  None  of  your  stock  has  been  sold," 
Adolphus  informed  his  father-in-law. 

Miles  was  bewildered  for  a  moment.    Mrs.  Fenway  broke  in. 

"  I  'm  sure,"  she  cried,  in  a  fluttering,  frightened  way,  "  I 
don't  understand  a  word  of  this  business." 

"  No,  you  probably  don't,"  said  her  husband.  "  You  never 
did  know  quite  so  much  about  it  as  you  supposed.  And  now 
it  appears  there  's  been  a  scheme  within  a  scheme,  too  deep 
for  us,  I  confess,  till  our  honorable  son-in-law  finds  it  con- 
venient to  inform  us  how  shrewdly  he  has  played  his  game, 
and  how  thoroughly  we  've  been  swindled.  The  long  and 
short  of  it  is,  —  if  what  he  says  is  true,  and  he  can  hold  me 
as  a  partner,  —  we  are  ruined." 

"  Swindled  !  ruined  !  "  gasped  out  Mrs.  Fenway. 

"  Swindled  is  a  hard  w^ord,  Mr.  Fenway,"  said  Adolphus. 

*'  It  is  a  word  I  never  expected  to  apply  to  any  one  con- 
nected with  my  family,"  said  Miles.  "The  saddest  thing 
about  it  is,  that  it  seems  to  be  the  right  word.  That  you 
should  drag  me  into  your  speculation  against  my  will,  assign 
to  me  one  third  of  the  stock,  which  remains  unsold,  and  now 
never  can  be  sold,  while  you  and  your  uncle  have  been  mak- 
ing a  market  for  your  shares,  and  now  coolly  inform  me  that 
I  am  to  be  held  not  only  for  the  three  payments  of  twelve 
thousand  dollars,  but  also  for  one  third  of  the  expenses  of 
boring,  getting  your  stock  certificates  engraved  and  printed, 


ADOLPHUS    GOES    TO    FKTCH    MARIAN    HOME,         397 

your  uncle's  salary  as  manager,  and  I  don't  know  what  else, 
for  all  which  I  have  nothing  to  show  but  a  little  worthless 
paper,  —  just  look  at  it,  Mr,  Daskill  !  What  is  it  but  a  bare- 
faced, downright  swindle  ?  I  'm  sorry  if  the  word  offends 
you,  sorrier  still  that  it  is  deserved." 

"  Well,  call  it  what  you  please,"  said  Adolphus  sullenly, 
"If  you  choose  to  think  that  I  deliberately  planned  to  swindle 
and  ruin  my  own  father-in-law,  you  're  welcome  to  the  opin- 
ion." 

"  I  don't  think  you  fully  intended  all  this,  any  more  than 
you  meant  to  wreck  my  daughter's  happiness,  I  've  no 
doubt  you  hoped  well  of  the  scheme.  You  would  have  pre- 
ferred making  a  fortune  for  me,  to  sweeping  away  at  a  stroke 
what  little  I  have.  But  there  was  some  risk,  and  you  took 
care  that,  if  anybody  suffered,  it  should  n't  be  you.  You  were 
not  so  rich  as  you  wished  to  be  thought ;  and  this  is  the 
desperate  scheme  you  resorted  to  in  order  to  better  your- 
self," 

"  Did  n't  I  offer  to  pay  the  Carolus  note  when  it  fell  due  ?  " 
Adolphus  demanded. 

"  So  you  did  ;  but  you  knew  that  neither  I  nor  old  Carolus 
was  uneasy  about  the  money  at  that  time  ;  and  you  made  a 
pretence  of  wishing  to  use  it  in  buying  grain  and  wool.  If  I 
had  urged  the  payment,  you  might  possibly  have  met  it,  or 
you  might  have  put  it  off  with  some  other  excuse.  But  it  is 
useless  to  discuss  that.  You  have  sprung  your  trap,  and  I 
am  in  it.  Worse  than  that,  our  daughter  is  in  it.  I  hoped, 
for  her  sake,  to  keep  peace  with  you  ;  but  now  that  you  have 
frankly  shown  the  depth  and  breadth  of  your  dishonesty,  and 
she  has  left  you  for  another  cause  quiie  as  discreditable  to 
you,  I  see  no  reason  why  your  connection  with  our  family 
should  be  kept  up." 

"It  is  war,  then,  between  us?"  said  Mr.  Daskill,  with  a 
dark,  fuliginous  look. 


398  farnell's  folly. 

"  If  you  choose  to  have  it  so.  I  make  war  on  nobody;  but 
I  shall  defend  myself  as  well  as  I  can." 

"  War  it  is,  then.     Very  good  !  " 

Adolphus  was  turning  to  go,  when  Mrs.  Fenway  flung 
herself  before  him. 

"  I  can't  have  it  so  !  O  Mr.  Daskill !  can't  this  thing  be 
settled .''  Think  of  the  consequences  to  Marian  !  You  cer- 
tainly can't  wish  to  abandon  her  now,  and  ruin  her  parents. 
After  all  our  hopes  and  plans  —  to  come  to  this  !  A  lawsuit, 
a  divorce  case  —  scandal  and  disgrace!  I  can't  bear  it!  I 
can't  bear  it ! '' 

The  poor  little  lady  actually  fell  upon  her  son-in-law's 
shoulder,  embracing  him  hysterically.  He  looked  down 
upon  her  with  grim  satisfaction.  The  interview  was  taking 
the  turn  he  had  hoped  for. 

"  It  isn't  my  choice,"  he  replied  coldly. 

"  Oh,  then,  if  you  would  only  say  that  your  connection  with 
that  woman  is  something  you  were  led  into  before  you  knew 
Marian,  and  that  you  would  have  broken  it  if  you  could,  — 
for  I  know  how  such  things  sometimes  work  !  " 

"  I  could  have  said  all  that  and  a  good  deal  more,  if  you 
had  given  me  a  chance.  It  is  only  on  my  son's  account  that 
I  have  kept  her  in  the  house." 

"  Oh,  I  was  sure  of  it !     And  you  will  take  her  back .''  " 

"  I  am  very  anxious  to  take  her  back.  My  happiness 
depends  upon  it,"  Adolphus  magnanimously  declared. 

"  Hear  that,  hear  that,  Miles  Fenway !  "  cried  the  excited 
little  woman.  "  Now  come  and  take  his  hand.  It  can  all  be 
made  up.  You  will  take  his  hand,  won't  you,  Mr.  Daskill? 
I  knew  you  would  !  "  And  she  tried  to  drag  the  two  men 
together,  both  of  whom,  it  must  be  owned,  looked  reluctant 
and  ashamed. 

"  I  am  ready  to  give  him  my  hand,"  said  Miles,  "when  he 
gives  some  pledge  besides  fair  words  for  his  future  honorable 
conduct." 


ADOLPHUS  GOES  TO  FETCH  MARIAN  HOME.    399 

"  He  will  do  that,  won't  you,  Mr.  Daskill  ?  And  you  will 
go  and  see  poor,  dear  Marian,  and  make  it  up  with  her.^*  I  '11 
go  and  prepare  her  for  the  interview  while  you  are  talking 
business  with  Mr.  Fenway.  Now  be  kind,  be  generous  with 
him,  won't  you  ?  "  cried  the  impulsive  creature,  looking  as  if 
she  would  have  kissed  her  dear  son-in-law  if  he  had  not  stood 
so  stiff  and  stubborn. 

.'Vfter  she  had  left  them,  there  was  a  thunder-cloud  of  omi- 
nous silence  between  the  two  men  for  about  a  minute.  Then 
Miles  said,  — 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  see  this  whole  thing  settled  between 
you  and  me,  and  above  all,  between  you  and  Marian,  on  just 
and  honorable  grounds,  but  on  no  other.  So  I  am  not  so 
hopeful  as  my  wife  seems  to  be  of  an  amicable  agreement. 
She  shows  an  abundant  lack  of  discretion  in  the  matter,  and 
of  course  you  understand  that  she  does  n't  speak  for  me." 

"  I  ought  to  understand  it.  Your  language  has  been  plain 
enough.  I  am  sorry  you  have  no  more  faith  in  me,"  Adolphus 
added. 

"  So  am  I,"  said  Miles  sincerely.  "  To  have  lost  faith  in 
you  is  the  most  grievous  disappointment  of  my  life.  If  you 
can  do  anything  to  restore  it,  you  will  give  me  the  greatest 
happiness." 

"  Well,  what  can  I  do  ?  " 

"  Get  rid  of  that  woman  and  never  see  her  again.  So 
much  in  justice  to  Marian.  Keep  your  promise  with  me,  — 
take  up  the  Carolus  note  and  relieve  me  of  all  obligations  in 
the  oil  scheme.  I  may  expect  Carolus  to  levy  on  my  prop- 
erty at  any  moment,  if  the  note  is  not  paid,  for  I  've  no  money 
to  pay  it." 

"  Neither  have  I,"  said  Adolphus.  "  My  capital  is  all  tied 
up.     But  I  will  telegraph  to  my  uncle  and  see  what  he  can  do." 

Mr.  Fenway  smiled  sadly. 

"  You  know,  and  I  know,  that  your  uncle  will  do  nothing. 


400  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

I  see  that  I  must  prepare  for  the  worst.  Old  Carolus  is  a 
man  without  mercy.  I  shall  let  things  take  their  course.  If 
my  business  and  my  property  are  to  go,  they  may  as  well  go 
first  as  last.  I  don't  propose  to  struggle  under  a  load  of  debt. 
I  'm  tired  of  struggling ;  I  had  enough  of  that  before  ever  I 
knew  you.  If  necessary,  I  can  go  back  to  my  little  shop,  and 
bend  over  a  horse's  hoof  again  in  my  old  age." 

Again  Adolphus  moodily  turned  to  go. 

"One  word  more,  Mr.  Daskill.  I  think  you  had  better  not 
see  Marian :  she  is  too  ill.  No  good  whatever  can  come  of 
an  interview  until  you  are  prepared  to  do  her  justice." 

Adolphus  made  no  reply.  He  went  out  and  found  Mrs. 
Fenway  trying  to  mount  his  horse  at  the  gate.  She  had  not 
expected  him  quite  so  soon,  but  had  hoped  to  reach  Mr.  Far- 
nell's  house  in  time  to  see  Marian,  and  allow  Walter  to  take 
the  horse  back,  before  Adolphus  was  ready  to  follow  her. 
Black  Nance  had  brought  out  a  chair,  which  she  placed  for 
the  lady  to  stand  on.  Frank  held  the  animal  by  the  bridle, 
while  Walter  gave  his  mother  a  boost.  Suddenly  the  horse 
shied  into  the  drifts  which  the  boys  had  been  shovelling,  and 
dropped  Mrs.  Fenway  at  full  length  in  the  deep  snow.  Wal- 
ter was  pulling  her  out,  and  black  Nance  was  giggling,  on  the 
verge  of  convulsions,  when  Mr.  Daskill  appeared. 

The  scene  would  hav-e  been  laughable  enough  if  the  occa- 
sion had  not  been  so  serious.  He  ordered  Frank  to  lead  the 
horse  into  the  shovelled  space  again,  and  set  the  chair,  as  if 
minded  to  aid  Mrs.  Fenway  in  her  efforts  to  mount.  But  he 
mounted  instead,  and  while  she  stood  spluttering  and  shaking 
off  the  snow  which  covered  her,  rode  to  Mr.  Farnell's  house. 
There  he  gave  the  reins  to  a  boy  who  was  clearing  the  steps, 
accosted  with  a  haughty  air  Ward  Farnell,  who  came  to  the 
door,  and  inquired  for  Mrs.  Daskill. 

"  Come  in,"  said  the  old  man,  with  sarcastic  courtesy.  "  My 
daughter  will  see  you." 


ADOLPHUS  GOES  TO  FETCH  MARIAN  HOME.    4OI 

"  I  called  to  see  my  wife,"  replied  Adolphus. 

"  To  see  her  in  my  house  you  will  have  to  see  my  daughter 
first,"  said  the  old  man,  with  ironic  complacency. 

Adolphus  went  in,  and  Julia  presently  appeared. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr,  Daskill,"'  she  said,  confronting  him 
with  pale  cheeks  and  eyes  that  pierced  him  with  their  cold, 
spiritual  rays.  With  haughty  politeness  he  returned  her  greet- 
ing, and  asked  to  see  his  wife.  "  I  do  not  think  it  best  that 
you  should  see  her,''  said  Julia. 

"  I  should  say  her  husband  was  the  best  judge  as  to  that," 
returned  Adolphus. 

Ward  Farnell  stood  by,  rubbing  his  hands  with  glee  to  see 
how  proud  and  noble  his  daughter  looked  in  this  brief  conflict 
of  eye-beams  keener  than  words.  *'  Mr.  Daskill,"  she  said, 
"your  wife  has  thrown  herself  upon  our  protection,  and  while 
she  is  in  this  house,  I  am  the  judge  in  all  such  matters." 

Adolphus  changed  his  tone  a  little.  "  I  shall  hope,  then,  to 
convince  you  that  it  will  be  best  for  her  to  see  me." 

"Mr.  Daskill,  you  may  hope  to  convince  me  of  that  when 
you  come  to  me  with  the  assurance  that  Mrs.  Lafitte  has  left 
your  house.  Until  then  you  shall  never,  with  my  consent, 
see  the  girl  you  have  so  wronged." 

"  Are  you  so  harsh  in  your  judgment,  —  so  relentless,  Miss 
Farnell?" 

"  I  am  relentless  as  fate  in  this,  Mr.  Daskill.  I  appealed 
to  you  once  in  vain.  I  gave  you  ample  warning.  You  have 
proved  yourself  unworthy  of  the  pure,  confiding  girl  you  won 
for  a  wife,  and  now,  if  you  have  lost  her,  the  fault  lies  in 
your  own  misconduct.  I  hope  you  may  repent,  I  hope  you 
will  yet  endeavor  to  atone  for  the  wrong  you  have  done  her, 
but  don't  seek  her  here  while  the  wrong  continues.  Good 
morning,  Mr.  Daskill." 

Without  waiting  to  hear  another  word  from  him,  she  left 
the  room.  Ward  Farnell  grinned  sarcastically  as  he  held  the 
door  open  for  the  visitor  and  saw  him  remount  his  horse. 


402  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 


CHAPTER   XLVII. 

WILL    RAY  BURN 'S    PLAN. 

Mr.  Fenway  found  William  at  the  shop,  and  told  him  what 
had  occurred  during  the  interview  with  Adolphus. 

"With  my  present  feelings,"  he  went  on  to  say,  "  I  can 
never  consent  to  Marian's  living  with  the  man  again ;  and  of 
course  I  expect  no  mercy  at  his  hands.  Things  look  pretty 
dark.  If  you  can  see  a  ray  of  light  for  me,  William,  I  shall 
be  glad." 

William  remained  silent  and  thoughtful.     Miles  continued. 

"  You  know  that  everything  I  have  is  in  this  business,  which 
it  has  cost  me  so  much  time  and  labor  and  anxiety  to  build 
up.  I  was  just  beginning  to  feel  I  had  got  it  so  established 
that  I  could  lie  a  little  later  of  a  morning,  in  my  advancing  years. 
Now  this  thing  comes  up.  I  consider  the  property  well  worth 
twenty-five  thousand  dollars;  but,  sold  under  the  hammer,  it 
will  not  bring  half  that,  —  barely  enough,  with  the  homestead 
thrown  in,  to  pay  for  this  twelve  or  fifteen  thousand  dollar 
scrape  Daskill  has  got  me  into.  I  don't  feel  like  fighting ;  I 
won't  fight.  Neither  will  I  raise  money  by  mortgages,  and  go 
tottering  through  the  remnant  of  my  days  under  a  burden  of 
debt.  No,  I  '11  let  things  take  their  course.  I  can  still  shoe 
a  horse  and  set  a  cart-tire.  The  law  will  ver}-  likely  regard 
me  as  a  partner  in  the  Bubbling  Run  project.  But  I  am 
thankful  for  one  thing,  —  it 's  none  of  my  stock  that  has  been 
sold ;  not  a  dollar  of  any  man's  money  has  gone  into  my 
pocket.  It  will  be  a  comfort  to  think  of  that,"  Miles  added, 
with  melancholy  humor,  "  when  I  am  rasping  hoofs  and  ham- 
mering horse-nails." 


\YILL    RAVBURN  S    PLAN.  4O3 

William  looked  up  with  a  cheerful  smile,  and  said,  — 

"  Nothing  very  bad  can  happen  to  a  man  who  takes  life  in 
that  spirit." 

"It  will  be  hard  for  my  little  woman  to  come  down.  I  think 
of  her  and  Marian.  The  boys  will  soon  be  able  to  take  care 
of  themselves,  though  I  had  hoped  to  give  them  a  thorough 
education.  For  my  own  part,  I  can  take  whatever  happens 
and  be  content,  provided  I  have  been  guilty  of  no  intentional 
wrong  toward  any  one.  It  seems  to  me  that  a  clear  conscience 
is  an  opening  into  the  blue  sky  of  Eternity  itself.  Everything 
else  is  transitory,  —  our  trials,  the  longest  of  them,  are  so 
short." 

William  listened  with  the  deepest  interest.  He  was  smil- 
ing still,  but  there  was  a  glistening  light  in  his  eyes  and  a 
tremor  in  his  voice,  as  he  replied, — 

"  I  thank  God  for  you,  Mr.  Fenway  !  You  are  the  one 
Christian  philosopher.  I  don't  know  another.  Often,  when 
I  have  been  weak  and  discouraged,  and  it  has  seemed  as  if 
the  strifes  and  vanities  of  the  mad  majority  would  prove  too 
much  for  me,  the  thought  of  your  life  and  example  has  been 
to  me  a  pillar  of  strength.  Well,  there  is  Miles  Fenway,  I 
would  say,  and  shut  my  eyes  and  ears  to  the  hurly-burly,  and 
be  at  peace.  You  among  men  —  and  a  certain  woman  I  know," 
Will  added,  with  love  and  reverence,  as  if  his  tongue  trembled 
to  touch  the  most  delicate  and  sacred  of  themes, —  "are  to  me 
a  constant  joy  and  satisfaction  ;  though  she  does  n't  know  it, 
and  probably  never  will,  and  I  might  never  have  told  you, 
but  for  this  opportunity." 

"William,  this  is  too  much,"  Miles  faltered,  with  grati- 
tude and  deep  humility. 

"  As  for  this  present  trouble  about  money  matters,"  Will 
resumed  after  a  little  while,  "  I  think  I  see  a  ray  of  light. 
There  is  my  uncle's  note,  in  the  first  place  ;  something  will  have 
to  be  done  about  it,  I  suppose,  as  soon  as  the  old  man  can 


404  FARNELLS   FOLLY. 

break  the  snow  blockade  and  leave  his  house.  He  isn't  shov- 
elled out  yet :  the  boys  refuse  to  work  for  him.  His  niggard 
liness  with  them  gives  you  a  little  time.  But  on  Monday,  no 
doubt,  he  will  move.  We  must  be  ready  with  a  counter-move- 
ment; for  you  are  not  going  to  give  up  the  fort  before  a  shot 
is  fired,  Miles  Fenway ! " 

"  No,  William,  I  '11  hold  it  while  there  is  hope.  .  But  I  really 
don't  see  what  I  am  to  do." 

"  Well,  what  I  am  going  to  say  may  be  quite  absurd.  And 
perhaps  I  had  better  think  about  it  awhile," 

"No,  no,"  said  Miles,  whose  curiosity  was  roused.  "I  feel 
that  you  have  an  idea.     Out  with  it !  " 

"The  fellows  here,"  replied  Will,  "have  a  strong  feeling 
that  I  saved  them  from  making  a  bad  speculation ,  and  they 
want  advise  as  to  investing  the  money  they  were  going  to  put 
into  the  Bubbling  Run." 

"  But  you  understand  that  I  don't  propose  to  borrow." 

"  And  I  don't  propose  to  have  you.  My  plan  is  this :  Form 
a  company.  Capital,  say  twenty-five  thousand  dollars,  repre- 
senting the  full  value  of  your  manufacturing  interest.  Two 
hundred  and  fifty  shares,  at  a  hundred  dollars  each.  Two 
hundred  shares  and  over  you  retain,  at  least  for  the  pres- 
ent. Thirty  shares,  if  olTered  to  the  men  in  the  shop,  will  be 
taken  by  them,  I  am  sure,  within  three  days.  They  know  you, 
they  know  the  business  ;  it  is  not  a  speculation,  but  a  well- 
established  industry  ;  and  they  become  capitalists  as  well  as 
laborers.  Their  wages  will  go  on  as  at  present ;  you  will  be 
entitled  to  a  liberal  salary,  as  the  head  of  the  concern ;  the 
net  profits  to  be  divided  among  the  stockholders.  I  have 
thought  of  something  of  the  kind  before,  but  it  was  only  a 
dream.  Now  it  looks  as  if  it  might  be  realized.  Nothing 
will  so  encourage  and  raise  the  self-respect  of  the  men ;  and 
I  am  sure  it  will  be  the  best  thing  for  the  shop." 

"  But  the  thirty  shares  sold  will  provide  for  only  three  thou- 
sand dollars." 


WILL    RAVDUKN  S    PLAN.  4O5 

"  That  is  true.  But  the  other  ten  or  twelve  shares,  needed 
to  pay  off  the  note  and  the  interest  on  it,  can  be  disposed  of 
in  some  way,  if  the  plan  promises  success.  Then  see  where 
you  are  The  Carolus  note  —  the  first  thing  that  threatens  — 
is  taken  care  of.  In  six  months,  I  have  no  doubt,  the  men 
will  be  ready  to  take  as  much  more  stock,  if  they  can  get  it ; 
and  you  may  be  glad  to  let  them  have  it, —  if  Mr.  Daskill 
presses  you.  Suppose  he  recovers  the  entire  amount  of  what 
he  claims  as  due  from  you  as  a  partner  in  his  oil  scheme : 
persons  enough  outside  the  shop  can  be  found  to  take  shares 
in  a  business  they  know  so  well.  You  can  let  them  in,  if  neces- 
sary, and  still,  at  the  very  worst,  have  one  hundred  shares  of 
stock  left  for  yourself,  after  all  your  losses.  This  will  be  better 
than  loading  yourself  with  debt  or  allowing  your  business 
to  be  sacrificed.  The  plan  is  crude  as  yet ;  it  requires  shap- 
ing.    But  something  may,  perhaps,  be  made  of  it." 

'•  I  don't  know,"  said  Miles,  sadly  musing.  "  I  should  want 
to  be  pretty  sure  I  was  n't  dragging  anybody  else  down  in  my 
ruin.  The  plan  is  worth  considering,  however,  and  I  wish 
you  would  put  it  on  paper." 

This  William  did,  and  submitted  his  draft  to  Mr.  Fenway 
in  the  afternoon. 

"  Very  ingenious,"  Miles  said,  giving  it  a  careful  examina- 
tion ;  and,  after  some  time  spent  in  weighing  advantages  and 
objections,  he  gave  his  consent  that  it  should  be  laid  before 
the  workmen. 

That  evening,  accordingly,  while  the  men  were  washing  up 
and  getting  ready  to  go  home,  William  invited  them  all  to 
come  into  the  office,  where  he  explained  the  whole  matter  to 
them  in  Mr.  Fenway's  presence. 

"  Understand,"  he  said,  in  conclusion,  "  this  plan  is  entirely 
my  own,  and  Mr.  Fenway  has  not  yet  agreed  to  it.  But  he 
was  willing  that  you  should  be  consulted;  and  I  think  he 
would  like  to  hear  your  mind  about  it." 


4o6  farnell's  folly. 

The  unanimity  and  heartiness  with  which  the  men  approved 
the  project  and  promised  to  take  stock  —  not  merely  as  a 
good  investment,  it  was  evident,  but  out  of  good-will  to  their 
employer  —  moved  Mr.  Fenway  almost  as  much  as  anything 
that  had  happened  during  the  day.  They  were  eager  to  place 
ever}thing  they  had  at  his  disposal,  on  his  own  terms,  which 
they  were  sure  would  be  just.  The  thirty  shares  offered  were 
all  subscribed  for  before  they  left  the  shop. 

"  Well,  William,"  said  Miles,  with  profound  emotion,  after 
they  were  gone,  "  it  looks  as  if  this  was  the  thing  to  be  done. 
Thanks  to  you,  for  I  never  should  have  thought  it  could  be 
carried  out.  I  only  wish  there  was  as  good  a  prospect  of 
Marian's  getting  through  her  trouble." 

*'0n  Monday,"  said  William,  "we  will  have  the  whole  mat- 
ter put  into  legal  form.  Meanwhile  I  must  see  about  the 
other  ten  shares." 

Old  Carolus  did  not  leave  his  house  during  the  day ;  but 
towards  night  his  paths  were  shovelled,  and  in  the  evening 
William  called  upon  him.  He  found  the  old  man  gibbering 
over  a  slice  of  bacon,  which  he  was  trying  to  broil  on  some 
very  inefficient  coals  in  his  open  fireplace.  A  single  tallow 
candle  burned  on  the  table. 

"  Where  's  your  housekeeper  ?  "  said  William. 

"  Sick,  by  Jehosh  ! "  squeaked  the  old  man,  turning  his 
rasher.  "  Has  n't  been  off  her  bed  for  two  days.  I  have  to 
take  care  of  myself  and  her  too.  Mighty  little  care  we  both 
get." 

"  Has  the  doctor  seen  her  ?  "  Will  inquired. 

"  D — n  the  doctor ! "  was  the  old  miser's  succinct  com- 
mentary on  that  subject.  He  looked  up  through  the  smoky 
haze  that  filled  the  room.  "  Doctors  ain't  quite  so  bad  as 
ministers  ;  but  they  're  bad  enough.  Don't  you  never  let  one 
come  a-nigh  me  when  I  'm  sick  ;  if  I  'm  to  die,  le'  me  die  in 
peace.  Promise  me  that,  and  I  '11  remember  you  in  my  will. 
Set  down,  will  ye  ?    What  do  ye  want  ? " 


WILL    RAVBURN  S    PLAN.  4O7 

"  To  have  a  little  talk  with  you,  Uncle." 

"  About  Miles  Fenway's  matter,  I  '11  bet  a  dollar." 

"  You  're  right,  Uncle." 

"  Too  late.  Note  goes  into  bank  for  collection  on  Mon- 
day. I  '11  do  anything  else  for  you.  Come,  I  '11  share  mv 
slice  of  bacon  with  ye."  And  the  old  man  put  his  supper 
on  the  table.  ■ 

Will  sat  down  opposite  him,  but  excused  himself  from 
eating. 

"You've  nothing  against  Miles  Fenway,  have  you?"  he 
said. 

"  Not  a  thing  ;  not  the  first  thing.  Only  he  's  made  a  fool 
of  himself  —  or  allowed  \\'hat"s-his-name  to  make  a  fool  of 
him  —  in  that  Bubbling  Run  iniquity." 

"  Well,  he  's  out  of  that.  He  has  broken  with  Mr.  Das- 
kill." 

'•  Good  news  !  good  news  !  Only  he  ain't  out  of  it.  He 
can't  be  out  of  it  till  the  note  is  paid." 

"  It  is  going  to  be  paid,  Uncle  Carolus."  And  Will  went 
on  in  his  plain,  honest  fashion  to  tell  the  old  man  how. 
''  Now,"  he  added,  "  I  want  to  take  ten  shares.  You  offered 
to  lend  me  money  once,  when  I  had  no  special  occasion  for 
it,  and  there  was  no  certainty  that  you  would  ever  get  it  back 
again.  I  have  occasion  for  it  now,  and  I  can  give  you  secu- 
rity for  the  repayment.  I  will  take  shares  in  the  fork  busi- 
ness, and  put  the  stock  into  your  hands." 

"  You  want  to  borrow  money  of  me  ! "  screamed  the  old 
man. 

'•  Yes ;  my  mother  will  help  me  to  three  hundred  dollars, 
and  I  want  seven  hundred  more." 

"  Seven  hundred  !  Great  Jehoshaphat !  I  have  n't  so  much 
money  in  the  world." 

Will  smiled.  "  You  can  give  me  an  order  on  Miles  Fen- 
way ;  he  will  take  it." 


4o8  farnell's  folly. 

"  Take  it  ?  Guess  he  will,  if  he  has  a  chance  !  Where 's 
the  man  who  would  n't  honor  my  order  ?  I  'm  known  around 
the  corner.  I  've  a  nest-egg;  I  've  a  plum.  I  'm  not  so  poor 
as  people  might  take  me  to  be  who  know  my  relations." 

"  I  wish  your  wealth  were  as  honorable  as  the  poverty  of 
your  relations,  Uncle,"  said  Will.  "  I  don't  consider  your 
nest-egg,  your  plum,  as  you  call  it,  anything  to  brag  of." 

"  Sour  grapes,  young  man  !  "  snarled  the  old  miser  over  his 
viand ;  and  with  shaking  hands  he  proceeded  to  adapt  a 
morsel  to  his  gums  by  chopping  it  into  bits  on  his  plate. 

"  I  hoped,  for  Mr.  Fenway's  sake,  to  carry  out  this  plan  ; 
and  also  for  the  sake  of  the  men,  who  I  think  can  do  nothing 
better  with  the  money  they  got  ready  for  investment  in  the 
Bubbling  Run.  But  this  is  something  I  shall  not  ask  you 
t\vice  for,  even  if  the  whole  thing  falls  through."  Will  rose, 
with  a  proud  and  stern  look.  "  You  once  offered  to  do  me  a 
favor,  and  now  you  have  had  the  chance.  Let  me  see  old 
Mattie  a  minute,  then  I  'II  go." 

"  See  her  and  be  d — d  !     She  's  in  the  next  room  there," 

The  door  was  open.  Will  left  the  old  man  munching  his 
bread  and  meat,  and  went  to  the  bedside  of  the  sick  woman. 
After  a  little  while  he  returned. 

"  She  's  in  a  bad  way.  Uncle.  I  don't  think  medicine  will  do 
her  much  good,  but  she  might  be  made  more  comfortable.  Will 
you  let  mother  come  over  and  see  what  she  can  do  for  her  ?  " 

"  Do  for  her  ?  Yes,  if  she  wants  to.  But  mind,  not  for  7ne  / 
I  won't  be  beholden  to  either  of  you.  What  are  you  looking 
at  me  so  for?"  said  old  Carolus. 

"  It  is  sad  to  see  you  in  this  condition,"  said  Will,  —  "  so 
old  and  friendless,  so  rich  and  so  niggardly !  Your  last  years 
desolate,  when  there  should  be  a  halo  surrounding  them.  I 
was  thinking  of  that,  Uncle.     Good  night." 

And  to  the  eyes  of  the  astonished  and  trembling  Carolus,  a 
radiance  went  out  of  the  room  with  the  young  man. 


WILL    RAYBURN  S    PLAN.  4O9 

Will  had  not  thought  that  even  Miles  Fenway's  prosperity 
was  worth  purchasing  by  one  word  of  flattery  or  the  least 
abatement  of  his  self-respect.  If  he  could  not  have  the  help 
of  his  uncle  on  high  and  manly  terms,  he  would  not  have  it  at 
all. 

His  hope  was  now  in  Geordie  Lorkins ;  and,  having  gone 
home  and  sent  his  mother  to  old  Mattie,  he  went  around  to 
Geordie's  house.  But  Geordie,  though  expected  home  that 
evening  by  the  train,  had  not  arrived,  probably  on  account  of 
the  snow  blockade. 

An  hour  later  Mrs.  Rayburn  returned,  and  found  her  son 
sitting  rather  gloomily  by  the  fire,  unable  to  see  the  way  clear 
out  of  his  little  pecuniary  difficulty.  She  told  him  wliat  she 
had  done  for  old  Mattie,  and  repeated  some  of  his  uncle's 
ill-natured  remarks,  then  took  a  scrap  of  folded  paper  from 
her  pocket. 

"  Here's  a  note  he  wrote  when  I  was  there,"  she  said.  "  It 
can't  be  anything  very  pleasant,  for  he  was  dreadfully  cross 
when  he  gave  it  to  me." 

Will  unfolded  the  stingy  little  scrap,  and  read,  in  his 
uncle's  characteristic  scrawl,  these  words  :  — 

"  Miles  Fenway,  —  Pay  to  William  Rayburn  srcen  hundred 
dollars,  on  my  account.  C.  Carolus." 


4IO  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 


CHAPTER   XLVIIL 


MRS.    CHILGROVE  S    PLAN. 


Marian  had  not  recovered  from  the  shock  of  that  terrible 
night,  when,  on  Sunday  afternoon,  she  was  removed  to  her 
father's  house.  It  was  a  comfort  to  repose  her  weary  heart 
and  languid  limbs  under  the  old  roof  again.  But  she  missed 
Julia's  gentle  nursing;  and  now,  when  she  had  most  need  of 
perfect  quiet,  Mrs.  Fenway's  stormily  affectionate  and  anxious 
moods  kept  her  in  a  state  of  agitation. 

"  O  mother,  mother,  don't  talk  about  it  any  more  !  "  the 
poor  girl  pleaded,  tired  of  the  agony  and  the  strife. 

"Well,  I  won't,  dear."  But  Mrs.  Fenway  could  not  quit 
the  exciting  theme;  she  still  held  her  daughter  to  the  rack, 
—  now  raving  about  the  wrong  and  ruin  the  husband's  perfidy 
had  wrought,  and  now  weakly  excusing  him,  from  motives 
more  contemptible  than  her  spite.  She  could  not  bear  the 
idea  of  Marian's  losing  her  proud  position  as  mistress  of  the 
Folly ;  and,  in  opposition  to  her  husband's  positive  commands, 
she  began  to  fret  and  contrive  to  bring  Mr.  Daskill  and 
Marian  again  together. 

Adolphus  did  not  immediately  seek  another  interview, 
perhaps  on  account  of  his  trouble  with  Mr.  Fenway;  or  it 
may  be  that  Mrs.  Chilgrove's  influence  restrained  him.  That 
lady  did  in  fact  triumphantly  remain  in  possession  of  the 
Folly  until  the  scandal  threatened  to  ruin  Mr.  Daskill's 
business  as  well  as  his  reputation.  Then,  to  the  great  excite- 
ment of  village  gossips,  she  was  observed  going  about  in 
search  of  a  boarding-place. 


MRS.    CHILGROVE  S    PLAN.  4I  I 

Circumstance  seems  often  to  favor  the  wicked  as  well  as 
the  just;  and  it  so  happened  that  after  a  dozen  doors  had 
been  almost  too  abruptly  closed  in  her  face,  a  haven  was 
opened  to  her.  As  she  was  passing  a  weather-browned, 
little  old  house  one  forenoon,  a  strange-looking,  skinny,  and 
shrivelled  face  —  whether  that  of  a  man  or  woman,  she  could 
at  first  scarcely  tell  —  appeared  at  a  window  and  screamed. 
She  paused,  ready  for  any  adventure,  and  quickly  recognized 
the  face  as  one  she  had  often  seen  in  the  streets  of  Way- 
brook. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  she  inquired. 

"  My  old  woman  is  dead  ;  that 's  what 's  the  matter." 

The  speaker  was,  in  fact,  Mr.  Carolus,  who,  rising  late  that 
morning,  and  going  to  old  Mattie's  room,  had  found  her  cold. 
Hardened  sinner  as  he  was,  the  discovery  had  startled  him 
into  the  act  of  thrusting  his  head  from  the  window,  and  call- 
ing to  the  first  passer-by. 

"  Send  somebody  —  I  don't  care  who  !  My  money  will 
pay." 

But  instead  of  sending  anybody,  Mrs.  Chilgrove,  with  a 
secret  purpose  swiftly  formed,  entered  the  house. 

"  Are  you  alone  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  All  sole  alone,  now  she  is  gone.  By  Jehosh  !  "  swore  the 
old  man,  with  unusual  emotion,  "she  w\as  the  only  friend  I 
had.  I  've  quarrelled  with  her  a  thousand  times  and  made 
up  again.  I  had  left  everything  to  her  in  my  will,  and  now 
she  has  died  and  upset  it !  " 

"  Poor  old  man  ! "  said  Mrs.  Chilgrove  compassionately. 

"  She  has  kept  my  house  for  fifteen  years.  Now  what  in 
time  she  wanted  to  go  first  for,  and  leave  me  in  the  lurch,  is 
more  'n  I  know.  She  was  around  the  house  yesterday.  She 
darned  my  stockings  last  evening,  —  there  's  her  work-basket 
now.  A  living  human  being  a  few  hours  ago  —  and  now 
what  is  she  .'     We  eat  and  drink,  and  pine   and  fret,  a  little 


412  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

while,  a  little  while,  and  then  the  ground  covers  us.  A  little 
breath  in  the  body  makes  such  a  difference  !  I  can't  under- 
stand it !     I  can't  understand  it !  " 

"Poor  old  man!"  again  said  the  lady,  almost  affection- 
ately, so  soft  and  winning  was  her  sympathy.  "  Yoa  need 
somebody  to  comfort  and  care  for  you." 

"  I  s'pose  I  do,  if  anybody  does.  She  's  been  ailing  —  up 
and  down  —  all  winter.  But  I  never  thought  she  would  peg 
out  before  I  did.  She  might  have  stayed  by  and  seen  me 
tucked  away.  Then  she  'd  have  been  the  richest  woman  in 
this  county.  I  calculated  on  that ;  blamed  if  I  did  n't  think 
I  should  chuckle  in  my  grave  to  see  my  old  Mattie  hated  and 
envied  and  flattered  for  her  money.  Now  here  I  am,  old  and 
tottering,  my  staff  broken.  Who  the  devil  I'm  going  to  get 
to  take  her  place  is  more  than  I  know." 

"Poor  old  man,  leave  all  to  me.  I  will  see  that  you  are 
cared  for." 

Carolus  had  sunk  down  in  a  chair.  She  leaned  caress- 
ingly towards  him,  and  laid  her  arm  over  his  shoulder.  He 
looked  up  at  her  sharply. 

"  Ain't  you  the  woman  that  made  the  row  between  What's- 
his-name  and  his  wife  ?  " 

"  I  have  had  charge  of  Mr.  Daskill's  sick  son,  —  a  poor, 
unfortunate  boy,  whom  I  would  never  have  left  but  for  those 
foolish  slanders.     Do  I  look  like  a  wicked  woman  ?  " 

Bending  compassionately  over  him,  gazing  sadly  down  into 
his  face,  she  looked  like  anything  but  that. 

"  I  guess  you  're  as  good  as  the  average,"  said  the  old  man. 
"  Everybody  has  a  selfish  end  to  gain.  There  was  only  one 
kind  soul  in  the  world  for  me.  There  she  lies.  She  did  n't 
care  for  my  money ;  and  that 's  the  reason  I  willed  it  to  her. 
The  will's  in  my  safe  there,  —  good  for  nothing  but  to  kindle 
the  fire  now.  I  was  never  so  cut  up  about  anything.  I  'm 
eighty  years  oldj  and  my  old  Mattie  is  dead." 


MRS.    CHILGROVES    PLAN.  413 

"  Poor  old  man  !  poor  old  man !  "  said  the  lady  soothingly. 
She  glanced  around  tlie  desolate  room.  "  You  have  had  no 
breakfast  ?  Let  me  get  your  breakfast  for  you  ;  then  I  will 
have  your  faithful  Mattie  decently  cared  for.  Poor  old  man  ! 
I  pity  you." 

Whether  she  pitied  him  or  not,  he  was  pleased  to  have  her 
near  him.  She  might  have  tlie  claws  of  a  cat,  but  her  purr- 
ing was  a  comfort. 

She  stayed  and  took  care  of  him,  and  ordered  ever}thing, 
to  the  unspeakable  disgust  of  some  excellent  people.  Mrs. 
Rayburn,  who  had  of  late  looked  in  to  see  old  Mattie  oc- 
casionally, declared  that  she  would  never  again  set  foot  in 
her  brother's  house  while  that  creature  remained.  And  the 
Wlntergreen  sisters,  who,  animated  by  their  ancient  grudge, 
attended  the  funeral,  less  out  of  respect  for  the  deceased  than 
from  hatred  of  Mrs.  Chilgrove,  got  the  old  reprobate  in  a 
comer,  and  informed  him  —  with  their  eighteen  auburn  ringlets 
all  bobbing  at  once  before  his  eyes  —  that  she  was  a  vile, 
deceitful  thing,  just  as  they  had  always  said,  and  that  she 
fawned  upon  him  for  his  money. 

"Vile,  is  she?  deceitful,  is  she?"  snapped  the  old  cynic. 
"  So  are  you  all.  You  would  fawn  on  me,  if  you  thought 
there  was  a  chance  of  getting  my  money.  I  don't  care  a 
tinker's  granny  what  she  does  it  for;  I  like  it." 

The  funeral  was  an  affair  of  the  undertaker,  Carolus 
vowed  that  he  would  have  no  praying  or  cant  over  his  old 
Mattie.  But  he  provided  a  costly  casket,  and  a  train  of  car- 
riages for  those  neighbors  who  came  out  of  kindness  or 
curiosity  to  follow  her  to  the  grave.  So  the  old  housekeeper 
died  and  was  buried,  and  Mrs.  Chilgrove  reigned  in  her 
stead. 

One  afternoon,  not  long  after  this  change,  William  Ray- 
burn  called  at  his  uncle's  to  deposit  with  him  the  security 
for  his  loan  of  seven    hundred  dollars.     The  old  man  had 


414  FARNELLS    FOLLY. 

gone  out,  but  her  serene  Highness,  the  new  housekeeper,  re- 
ceived him  graciously. 

"  Sit  clown,  will  you  ?  "  she  said  with  a  tranquil  smile. 
"  Come,  Mr.  Rayburn,  you  and  I  ought  to  be  friends.  We 
can  help  each  other.  Besides,  I  always  liked  you.  And 
now,  since  I  have  been  in  this  house,  you  have  let  me  alone, 
while  almost  everybody  else  has  been  trying  to  get  me  driven 
out.  What  harm  am  I  doing  to  them,  or  to  Mr.  Carolus  ? 
You  can  see  for  yourself  that  he  is  living  much  more  comfort- 
ably than  he  used  to." 

Indeed,  William  could  not  help  noticing  a  great  improve- 
ment in  the  appearance  of  the  house. 

"  It  is  n't  what  you  are  doing  for  him  that  any  one  objects 
to,  but  your  motives,"  he  replied.  "  From  what  they  know  of 
you,  they  don't  think  you  capable  of  a  benevolent  action." 

The  lady  colored  slightly,  but  laughed. 

"  Oh,  I  have  some  wicked  object  in  view,  of  course !  Well, 
I  '11  frankly  acknowledge  to  you  that  I  am  not  so  rich  and 
benevolent  that  I  can  afford  to  take  care  of  an  old  man  for 
nothing.  It  is  not  amusing.  But,  believe  me  or  not,  I  mean 
to  do  him  good  and  not  harm.  I  can  do  you  a  service,  too, 
of  the  greatest  importance;  do  you  know  it?  " 

Will,  who  had  sat  down,  regarded  the  lady  with  interest,  as 
he  answered  quietly, — 

"  I  don't  think  of  any  service  I  desire  at  your  hands." 

"  Perhaps  not.  You  are  prejudiced  against  me.  You  think 
I  caused  the  separation  between  Mr.  Daskill  and  his  wife. 
You  should  thank  me  for  that.  You  are  the  only  man  in  the 
world  she  cares  for  (I  know  what  I  am  saying),  and  now  you 
can  marry  her  if  you  like.  A  divorce  will  be  a  mere  matter 
of  form.  They  never  belonged  together.  I  have  done  no- 
body r.ny  harm  in  that  case,  either.  I  am  not  so  bad  as  peo- 
ple think." 

William  made  no  reply,  but  kept  his  eyes  upon  her  with  a 


MRS.    CHILGROVE's    PLAN.  41$ 

Steady,  searching  expression,  which  made  the  lady  drop  her 
own. 

"  You  are  a  strange  man,"  she  said.  "  You  make  me  want 
to  tell  you  everything.  Only  a  man,  and  a  man  like  you,  can 
understand  a  woman  like  me." 

'•  I  think  I  understand  you,"  said  William. 

"And  you  detest  me  ?" 

"  Oh,  no ;  I  detest  nobody.  You  excuse  your  conduct  to 
yourself.  And  where  you  are  not  too  much  influenced  by 
your  selfishness  or  your  hatred,  you  can  do  a  good  action," 

"  I  will  prove  to  you  that  I  can,"  the  lady  replied,  after  a 
pause.  "Your  uncle  had  made  his  will,  giving  ever>-thing  to 
old  Mattie.  Now  he  is  anxious  to  make  another.  If  he  does, 
vou  will  get  nothing.  I  suppose  you  know  that.  But  if  he 
dies  intestate,  your  mother  and  you  are  his  natural  heirs. 
Now,  I  can  prevent  his  making  a  will,  if  I  like.  That  is 
what  I  can  do  for  you." 

"  But  you  don't  propose  to  do  it  for  nothing." 

"  Would  you  expect  me  to  ?"  Mrs.  Chilgrove  smiled,  with 
her  dilating  eyes  fixed  on  the  young  man.  "Out  of  a  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars  secured  to  you  by  me,  you  can  afford 
to  give  me  twenty  thousand.  That  leaves  you  a  fortune. 
While  without  my  help  you  will  get  what  you  did  in  the  old 
will,  probably,  —  one  dollar  to  your  name." 

"  Do  you  expect  me  to  become  a  party  to  such  a  bargain 

as  this?" 

"You  need  not  sign  any  agreement.  I  will  trust  your  word. 
I  make  a  frank  proposal.     You  accept  it  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Chilgrove,  it  is  not  a  frank  proposal.  You  let  me 
see  about  as  much  of  your  motive  as  we  see  of  the  moon 
when  it  is  new,— just  a  rim,  but  within  that  rim  we  some- 
times see  dimly  the  full  orb." 

The  lady  dropped  her  eyes  again  as  she  asked,  "  What  do 
you  see  ?  " 


4i6  farnell's  folly. 

"  I  see  that  what  you  propose  to  me  is  only  a  small  part  of 
the  game  you  are  playing.  You  promise  to  prevent  my  uncle's 
making  a  new  will,  while  you  mean  to  use  all  your  influence 
to  induce  him  to  make  one." 

"  How  can  that  be  ?  " 

"  It  is  simple  enough.  The  will  he  is  to  make,  if  he  can 
be  prevailed  upon,  will  be  in  your  favor.  You  can  no  doubt 
get  it,  if  you  have  time  enough.  If  he  dies  too  soon,  a  bar- 
gain with  me  may  be  useful.  In  one  case  you  get  all,  in  the 
other  you  still  get  a  part.  You  wish  to  secure  yourself  on 
both  sides.  I  don't  say  that  I  blame  you.  As  we  are,  so  we 
act.     A  leopard  is  a  leopard,  and  a  lamb  is  a  lamb." 

Mrs.  Chilgrove  was  thrown  into  some  confusion  as  he  was 
speaking.  But  wMen  he  closed  she  said,  with  seeming  sin- 
cerity, — 

"  Mr.  Rayburn,  you  are  the  most  extraordinary  man  I  ever 
saw.     It  is  impossible  to  deceive  you." 

"  But  you  have  found  it  possible  to  deceive  most  men  ? 
Well,  I  suppose  that  is  your  nature  too." 

"  Men  have  deceived  me  and  I  have  deceived  them.  I 
have  had  my  revenge."  And  a  sparkle  of  wickedness  shot 
from  the  dilated  eyes.  "  I  was  an  innocent  girl  once,  and  I 
might  have  remained  so,  but  I  had  my  living  to  get  and  small 
means  of  getting  it,  and  when  I  would  have  been  honest,  I 
was  met  on  every  side  by  bad  men  who  practised  their  arts 
upon  me.  They  did  not  find  me  a  passive  prey.  I  have 
repaid  them." 

"Yes;  and  you  have  involved  innocent  persons  in  your 
revenge.     Have  you  no  remorse  on  their  account  ?  " 

"  Has  anybody  remorse  on  my  account  ?  My  house  is 
fired,  and  sparks  fly  from  it  to  my  neighbor's.  I  can't 
help  it." 

"  But,  Mrs.  Chilgrove,  had  you  no  compassion,  no  regret, 
when  you  found  what  you  had  done  to  one  who  had  never 


MRS.    CniLGKOVES    PLAN.  417 

intentionally  injured  you, — who  really  wished  to  be  your 
friend?     But  you  deceived  and  betrayed  her." 

"  She  need  n't  have  gone  out  in  the  storm.  But  I  was  glad 
she  went.  Do  you  think  that,  with  my  experience  of  the 
world,  I  consider  a  human  life  of  very  much  account  .<*  I  had 
kept  poison  by  me  for  a  month." 

"  For  whom  ?  " 

"I  didn't  know,  —  whether  for  her,  or  him,  or  myself,  or 
all  of  us,  —  and  I  did  n't  much  care."' 

So  this  woman,  so  reticent  with  others,  talked,  as  if  some 
strong  fatality  impelled  her,  to  this  young  man. 

"I  am  sorry!  I  am  very  sorry!"  was  his  answer,  uttered 
with  profound  emotion.  "  Sorry  for  you,  Mrs.  Chilgrove  ;  sorr)' 
to  see  so  strong  and  brave  a  woman  so  perverted.  Geordie 
Lorkins  thought  you  such  a  cold  creature.  Little  did  he  know 
what  a  firebrand  he  was  bringing  home  with  him.  Why  did 
you  fling  yourself  down  in  the  road  before  his  horses?  But 
I  see  the  guile  in  that  too.  A  proud  and  desperate  v.oman 
like  you  would  not  beg,  and  you  knew  that  if  you  asked  for 
help  you  might  not  get  it.  But  few  men  could  pass  a  woman 
lying  in  the  snow,  at  night,  without  at  least  stopping  to  see  if 
she  was  dead,  and  you  trusted  to  your  powers  of  interesting 
in  your  behalf  any  person  who  might  take  you  up." 

"What  you  say  is  precisely  so,"  the  lady  replied,  with  a 
smile.  "I  feel  as  if  my  life  was  an  open  book  to  you;  that 
is  why  I  am  so  frank.  Now  will  you  go  off  and  betray  me? 
tr)'  to  deprive  me  of  this  home  ?  " 

"No,  I  shrll  not  injure  you.  I  can't  promise  to  further 
your  schemes,  but  you  w'.ll  find  I  am  a  friend  to  your  best  in- 
terests. I  would  so  gladly  help  you  make  yourself  over  into 
a  true  and  noble  woman  ! " 

He  gave  her  his  hand.     Tears  filled  her  eyes. 

"  If  I  could  have  had  such  a  man  as  you  for  a  friend  when 
I  was  young  and  innocent !  "  she  said  in  a  quivering  voice. 

27 


4l8  FARN ell's    folly. 

Will  could  not  help  wondering,  as  he  went  away,  whether 
a  woman  like  her  could  ever  have  been  innocent. 

"  She  is  as  she  is,  God  pity  her ! "  And  his  prophetic  soul 
added,  "  She  will  never  change  her  spots." 

He  carried  away  with  him  the  paper  he  had  called  to  leave 
with  his  uncle,  and  it  was  not  long  before  the  old  man  came 
into  the  office  to  get  it.  This  little  matter  of  business  set- 
tled, Will  said,  — 

"  There  is  another  thing  I  feel  that  I  ought  to  talk  to  you 
about." 

"What's  that?" 

"  Your  will,  uncle." 

"  That 's  none  of  your  business  and  never  will  be,"  said 
Carolus  sharply. 

"  If  you  don't  make  a  will,  it  will  be  my  business  very 
sure,"  Will  replied.  But  I  prefer  that  you  should  make  one. 
I  don't  want  a  dollar  more  of  your  money  than  you  wish  me 
to  have.  I  desire  that  you  should  do  with  it  just  what  you 
please.  Don't  delay.  You  are  old  and  infirm.  While  you 
are  hesitating,  your  feet  may  suddenly  slip  from  under  you, 
and  I  shall  have  the  disagreeable  feeling  that  I  have  got  what 
you  never  intended  for  me." 

"  By  the  great  Jehosh !  "  shrieked  the  old  man,  bringing  his 
stick  down  smartly  on  the  office  floor.  "  I  don't  understand 
you,  Vv'illiam." 

"  No,  Uncle.  But  when  you  reflect  upon  it,  you  must  at 
least  see  that  my  advice  is  disinterested,  and  I  hope  you  will 
heed  it.  You  have  no  old  Mattie  to  leave  your  property  to 
now ;  but  there  are  plenty  of  worthy  people  and  worthy 
objects.  If  you  wish  to  astonish  us,  why  not  choose  some 
really  deserving  persons  to  share  your  wealth  ?  Then  of 
course  you  will  be  just  to  those  who  have  claims  upon  you, 
whether  they  are  worthy  or  not." 

"  Ha  !   you  mean  my  relatives  ?  " 


MRS.    CHILGROVES    PLAN.  4I9 

*'  Your  relatives  have  no  claims  upon  you.  Come,  now, 
Uncle  ;  I  want  you  to  free  your  mind  entirely  of  the  notion 
that  I  would  speak  one  word,  or  turn  my  hand  over,  to  get 
your  money." 

"  I  can't  believe  you  are  such  a  d — d  fool,  William  !  " 

"Well,  I  am  just  that  kind  of  fool;  though  I  don't  think 
the  epithet  you  use  is  quite  fitting." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  then  ?     Who  has  claims  on  me  }  " 

"Your  present  housekeeper,  for  one.  I  hope  you  pay  her 
handsomely  for  what  she  is  doing  for  you  ;  if  not,  she  should 
get  something  in  your  will.  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  what 
she  is  working  for.  Of  course  you  wiil  give  her  something. 
But,  Uncle  Carolus,"  Will  added  significantly,  "if  you  would 
have  your  days  long  in  the  land,  don't  make  it  for  anybody's 
interest  that  they  should  be  shortened." 

"  What  in  the  devil  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  "  The  old  man 
was  really  startled. 

"  Wholesome  counsel,  that  is  all.  If  I  thought  you  cared 
for  my  opinion,  I  should  like  to  go  en  and  tell  you  what  I 
think  would  be  a  very  good'object  to  which  your  money  might 
be  applied.  This  town  needs  a  free  library.  Wilh  half  your 
wealth  you  could  endow  one  munificently.  It  would  be  bet- 
ter for  you  to  do  it  while  you  are  still  living;  so  that  in  y^ur 
last  years  you  might  enjoy  the  satisfaction  of  having  done  a 
noble  deed  and  earned  the  gratitude  of  a  whole  community. 
But  if  you  can't  bring  your  mind  to  that,  then  do  it  by  your 
bequest." 

Without  a  word  of  reply,  the  old  man  nodded,  grimaced, 
got  upon  his  three  props,  and  went  jerking  and  tottering  out 
of  the  door. 


420  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

GEORDIE    LORKINS    BRINGS    NEWS. 

Mr.  Daskill's  business  had  been  in  a  bad  way  long  before 
people  began  to  find  it  out.  In  buying  the  Folly,  he  had  left 
Goldfinch  &  Co.'s  mortgage  upon  it,  and  he  had  other 
debts.  The  community  was  as  completely  deceived  in  him  as 
it  had  been  in  Ward  Farnell ;  and  he  was  deceived  in  him- 
self. Sanguine,  self-confident,  extravagantly  ambitious,  he 
received  hope  into  his  counsels  when  he  should  have 
listened  to  the  whispers  of  prudence,  and  mistook  his  wishes 
for  facts. 

*'  Trouble  with  Daskill  is,"  Geordie  Lorkins  use  to  say, 
"  his  eyes  are  bigger  'n  his  belly.  He  more  'n  half  believes 
his  own  lies.  He  's  got  so  much  imagination  he  can't  stick  to 
the  truth ;  he  's  like  the  man  who  went  out  to  shingle  a  barn  one 
morning  when  the  fog  was  so  thick  he  could  n't  see  when  he 
got  to  the  edge  of  the  roof,  but  shingled  'way  out  into  the 
fog.  He  talks  about  projecting  great  schemes  ;  he  does  pro- 
ject 'em,  in  just  that  way." 

Adolphus  had  hoped  by  the  oil  speculation  to  make  a  great 
fortune  for  himself,  and  incidentally,  perhaps,  for  others. 
He  had  entered  into  it,  and  drawn  his  father-in-law  into  it, 
with  that  large,  unflinching  confidence,  characteristic  of  such 
men,  which  often  passes  for  courage,  but  is  really  rashness,  — 
a  rank  weed  that  thrives  in  soil  where  prudence  and  con- 
science do  not  grow.  By  the  sale  of  his  own  private  block  of 
stock,  he  had  managed  to  continue  living  extravagantly  and 
keep  up  a  show  of  prosperity.     But  that  sale,  sustained  as 


GEORDIE    LORKINS    BRINGS    NEWS.  42  [ 

long  as  possible  by  rose-colored  representations,  had  now 
stopped.  The  fact  could  not  be  concealed  that  the  boring 
was  a  failure ;  and  the  time  came  when  favorable  false 
reports,  invented  by  Daskill  and  industriously  circulated  by 
his  agents,  ceased  to  excite  anything  but  contempt.  The 
sale  could  not  be  revived  ;  and  honest  stockholders,  while 
they  clung  to  the  hope  he  confidently  held  out, —  that  the 
boring  would  be  resumed  in  the  spring,  and  was  sure  to  suc- 
ceed, —  felt  a  growing  conviction  that  they  had  been  duped. 

It  Avas  the  failure  of  his  scheme  which  had  driven  Adolphus 
to  break  with  his  father-in-law ;  and  it  now  prevented  him 
from  making  up  his  quarrel  with  Marian.  Lastly,  it  was  the 
cause  of  a  suit  begun  by  him  and  his  uncle  against  Mr.  Fen- 
way, to  recover  six  thousand  dollars,  which  they  claimed  they 
had  advanced  for  him  as  a  partner  in  making  the  second  pay- 
ment due  on  the  property,  and  in  meeting  other  expenses. 

Miles,  who  had  an  honest  man's  horror  of  a  lawsuit,  turned 
pale  when  the  summons  was  served  on  him.  He  had  to  the 
last  hoped  that  his  son-in-law  would  not  be  guilty  of  this 
injustice.  It  was  a  consolation  to  know  that  every  man  in 
the  shop  was  ready  to  stand  by  him  in  the  fight,  if  fight  there 
was  to  be.  William  said,  ''Wait  a  little  while,  and  see  what 
will  turn  up."  The  first  thing  that  turned  i\p  was  Geordie 
Lorkins,  who  in  his  last  trip  had  visited  the  oil  district,  and 
who  brought  home  news. 

"  Tell  ye  w-hat,"  said  Geordie,  coming  into  the  office  like  a 
fresh  breeze,  and  finding  Miles  and  William  in  consultation, 
"  that  there  Dolph  Daskill  is  a  bigger  rascal  than  I  supposed. 
I  've  been  to  Bubbling  Run,  and  learnt  a  thing  or  two. 
There  may  be  ile  there,  —  shouldn't  wonder  if  there  was, — 
but  they  hain't  struck  it,  and  they  hain't  got  money  enough 
to  strike  it.  They  can't  even  pay  the  men  that  worked  for 
'em  last  fall  ;  and  there  's  a  mortgage  on  their  engine  and 
boring  machine.     What 's  more,  it's  all  a  lie  about  their  pay- 


422  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

ing  so  much  for  the  property.  The  owner  offered  it  for  one 
quarter  what  Daskill  says  he  gave  for  it,  till  all  at  once,  after 
he  had  talked  with  Uncle  Narabone,  he  put  up  his  figgers. 
That  meant  a  swindle  for  somebody.  I  believe  every  dollar 
that 's  ever  been  paid  on  that  property  has  come  out  of  you, 
Mr.  Fenway ;  if  the  owner  gets  anything  more,  he  gets  it  in 
stock.  Narabone  had  n't  any  money  ;  Daskill  had  n't  any 
money  ;  and  they  never  could  have  started  the  speculation 
if 't  hadn't  been  for  you.  They  got  your  four  thousand  dol- 
lars, and  they  've  got  a  good  deal  of  other  folks's  money 
since  ;  but  I  don't  believe  a  dollar  of  the  original  expense 
has  come  out  of  their  pockets.  I  talked  with  men  out  there 
who  know  Narabone,  and  have  kept  watch  of  his  speculation  ; 
I  talked  with  the  owner  too  ;  and  finally  I  run  aginst  Nara- 
bone himself.  He  's  got  a  mouth  like  an  alligator,  eyes  like 
a  fish,  and  a  voice  that  sounds  as  if  it  had  warts  on  it,  —  a 
sort  of  a  croak.  He  was  swelling  around  there,  and,  taking 
me  for  a  stranger,  he  fastened  on  to  me,  and  tried  to  interest 
me  in  the  property.  I  just  let  him  palaver,  —  said  'H'm!' 
and  '  Jes  so  ! '  to  everything,  till  bimeby  I  'd  heard  about 
enough,  and  I  opened  fire. 

"  '  Guess  ye  may  as  well  put  the  brakes  on  to  3^our  train  of 
conversation,'  says  I ;  '  for  I  find  ye  can't  tell  me  anything 
about  Bubbling  Run  that  you  don't  make  up  as  you  go  along. 
I  know  more  about  it,  and  more  about  you,  than  you  imagine. 
I  know  your  nephew,  Dolph  Daskill.  I  know  the  former 
owner  of  the  property,  and  I  know  the  price  he  offered  it  for 
'fore  you  concluded  to  buy  it  for  four  times  as  much  and 
make  an  honest  man  over  in  Waybrook  pay  for  it.  I  know 
lots  of  fools  who  have  been  taken  in  by  your  humbug, 
besides.  Now  what  ye  got  to  say  ? '  says  I.  By  mighty  !  he 
hadn't  anything  to  say.  He  shet  up  like  a  telescope.  He 
looked  as  if  he  would  like  to  crawl  into  a  knot-hole,  and  clap 
the  knot  in  after  him." 


GEORDIE    LORKIXS    BRINGS    NEWS,  423 

Geordie  admitted  that  the  fraud  in  the  purchase  cf  the 
land  had  been  carefully  covered  up,  but  so  confident  was  he 
that  it  could  be  uncovered,  that  Miles,  who  placed  great  reli- 
ance on  his  shrewdness,  took  heart,  and  resolved  to  stand  a 
lawsuit. 

"They're  tr}'ing  to  bluff  ye,"  said  Geordie.  "  But  that 's  a 
game  two  can  play  at.  The  way  to  treat  such  fellers  is  to  sue 
'em  in  return  for  the  money  they  've  already  swindled  you  out 
of.  I  don't  believe  they'll  let  the  thing  go  to  a  jury.  If 
they  do,  they  '11  wish  they  hadn't ;  they'll  turn  tail  and  ki-yi, 
with  their  mouths  full  of  quills,  like  puppies  from  a 
hedgehog." 

"  I  believe  you  're  right,"  said  Miles.  "  If  Daskill  wants 
the  law,  he  shall  have  enough  of  it.  I  '11  bring  a  counter-suit, 
and  Marian  shall  begin  an  action  for  divorce  at  the  same 
time.     She  shall  be  free  from  him." 

Marian  meanwhile  was  waiting  for  the  breath  of  spring  to 
restore  her  shattered  health.  Will  had  scarcely  seen  her 
since  she  returned  to  her  father's  house  ;  only  once  or  twice 
they  met,  as  she  rode  out  with  her  mother  on  the  first  rare, 
balmy  days.  She  was  pale  and  languid,  but  a  lovely  flush 
overspread  the  delicate  fairness  of  her  features,  and  she 
smiled  upon  him,  oh,  so  sweetly  and  wistfully!  And  .her 
mother  gave  him  a  decidedly  encouraging  nod. 


424  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 


CHAPTER   L. 


JULIA    FARNELL. 


Gentlemanly  leisure  and  freedom  from  business  cares 
agreed  vvith  Ward  Farnell's  constitution.  He  had  grown  corpu- 
lent since  his  failure.  As  he  sat  and  read  his  newspaper,  it 
took  the  largest  chair  in  the  house  to  hold  him,  and  another 
to  support  his  feet.  Excessive  floridness  of  countenance  was 
developed,  with  a  tendency  to  special  redness  and  sponginess 
of  nose.  Incipient  veininess  of  cheek  and  pendency  of  jowl 
were  also  observable.  It  was  a  wonder  to  ever}'body  how 
Julia  could  keep  him  in  such  remarkably  fine  condition  on 
her  paltry  ten  dollars  a  week.  He  had  long  since  given  up 
the  unworthy  thought  of  bettering  the  family  fortunes  by  any 
exertions  of  his  own.  Vast  mental  capacity  still  waited  in 
that  thinly  thatched  dome  for  an  opportunity  to  make  its  im- 
press on  society;  but  an  unappreciative  world  neglected 
Ward  Farnell.  Occasion  did  not  come  to  seek  him,  and  he 
did  not  go  out  to  seek  Occasion  :  he  was  a  man  of  too  much 
portliness  and  dignity  for  that.  His  schemes  for  rearing 
colossal  enterprises  in  the  future  gave  place  by  degrees  to 
reminiscences  of  immense  fortunes  which  he  had  barely 
missed  making  in  the  past.  He  had  seen  the  time  when  he 
could  have  bought  up  a  large  part  of  the  present  site  of  the 
city  of  Buffalo  for  a  hundred  dollr.rs ;  and  he  had  once 
thought  of  securing  the  v^hole  v/ater-front  of  Chicago,  when 
it  could  have  been  had  for  a  song.  Then  his  imagination 
would  revel  in  visions  of  boundless  wealth,  secured  by  some 
such  happy  speculation. 


JULIA    FARNELL.  425 

He  Still  liked  to  complain  ;  and  it  was  edifying  to  hear 
him  expatiate  on  the  deterioration  of  things  in  general  on 
this  planet  since  the  good  old  times  which  he  remembered. 
With  all  their  new-fangled  varieties  of  fruits,  there  were  no 
such  pears  now  as  then,  and  certainly  no  such  peaches. 
There  used  to  be  apples  almost  as  large  as  his  head;  and  flavor? 
apples  had  no  flavor  now.  He  was  not  so  old  but  he  could 
remember  when  there  were  pretty  girls  ;  and  aged  people 
were  venerable  ;  and  tailors  could  fit  clothes  ;  and  there  was 
a  certain  sweetness  in  tlie  air  in  spring ;  and  pinks  and  roses 
had  a  beauty  long  since  lost.  There  were  great  men  in  those 
days ;  and  he  delighted  to  run  on  with  a  long  list  of  the 
names  of  once  noted  individuals  which  his  younger  hearers  had 
never  heard  ;  ending  with  a  sad  sigh  and  a  prodigious  frown, 
indicating  that  there  was  only  one  of  the  old  giants  left. 

Beef  was  tender  in  that  golden  age,  and  people  had  teeth. 
But  it  was  years  since  he  had  tasted  chop  or  steak  with  any- 
thing like  the  primeval  sweetness  in  it.  He  wondered 
whether  grass  was  as  succulent  as  it  used  to  be,  or  whether 
the  fault  was  in  the  modern  breeds  of  stock. 

"There's  nothing  like  the  old-fashioned  sheep  and  cattle 
for  roasting  and  broiling,  after  all,"  says  Ward  Farnell,  with 
a  reminiscent  smack. 

Even  that  poor  creature-comfort,  whiskey,  had  degenerated, 
and  he  had  to  drink  an  ever-increasing  quantity  of  it  to  make 
up  for  the  deficient  quality.  Julia,  who  did  not  understand 
the  necessity,  feared  he  was  taking  too  much.  She  did  not 
clearly  see  the  benefit  it  was  to  him  ;  and  alas  !  with  their 
straitened  means,  it  could  not  be  afTorded.  So  she  made  a 
strenuous  effort  to  keep  it  out  of  the  house.  Ward  Farnell 
wiped  a  pathetic  tear,  and  remarked  that  the  cruelty  of 
daughters  nowadays  was  something  unknown  in  his  youth, 
but  finally  yielded  —  or  appeared  to  yield — to  her  earnest 
entreaties. 


426  farnell's  folly. 

Still  the  red  ensign  did  not  disappear  from  the  van  of  his 
noble  features  ;  and  Julia  noticed  that  the  marketing,  which 
was  mostly  intrusted  to  him,  became  unusually  expensive. 
To  remedy  that,  she  told  him  to  get  things  charged  at  the 
grocer's  and  butcher's,  and  put  into  his  hands  only  the 
money  necessary  to  pay  certain  bills.  Great  was  her  dismay 
when  she  found  that  the  money  was  spent,  while  the  bills  re- 
mained unpaid.  He  kept  no  accounts,  and  could  offer  no 
explanation  of  the  mystery. 

He  had  of  late  fallen  into  the  habit  of  taking  early  morning 
walks,  which  he  had  discovered  to  be  good  for  his  constitu- 
tion ;  and  certainly  he  always  appeared  a  deal  fresher  and 
more  cheerful  on  his  return  home  than  when  he  set  out.  One 
night  there  had  been  a  light  fall  of  snow,  and  after  h.e  came 
in  from  his  bcfore-breakfast  ramble,  Julia  had  occasion  to  go 
into  the  street.  There,  conspicuously  impressed  in  the  soft 
white  veil  of  purity  that  covered  everything  else,  were  the 
prints  of  a  solitary  pair  of  feet, — broad,  short-stepping, 
quaintly  picturesque,  —  leading  to  the  tavern  steps,  and  back 
again  to  the  house. 

The  wretched  daughter's  heart  was  rung  at  this  discovery. 
Then  she  tried  the  experiment  of  giving  him  no  money  at  all. 
He  stole  it  from  her  purse,  and  made  the  house  exceedingly 
warm  for  her  when  he  could  n't  steal  it.  Finding  remonstrance 
and  precaution  in  vain,  she  one  day  gave  him  some  money, 
saying  quietly,  "  Here,  father,  don't  go  to  the  tavern  any 
more,  but  fill  your  jug:  that  will  be  cheaper." 

To  see  the  father  whom  she  had  once  venerated,  and  for  whom 
she  still  cherished  a  tender  filial  regard,  growing  thus  besotted 
in  body  and  mind,  wore  upon  her  more  than  her  work.  And 
this  was  wearisome  enough.  Her  labor  at  the  school  was  all 
she  ought  to  have  undertaken.  But  out  of  school  hours  she 
was  a  slave  to  the  family.  She  was  housekeeper,  seamstress, 
dress-maker,  milliner.     It  was  a  marvel  to  see  how,  with  every 


JULIA    FARNELL.  427 

change  of  season  or  of  style,  by  a  little  reshaping  of  old 
materials,  with  the  addition  perhaps  of  a  little  fresh  ribbon 
or  bit  of  velvet,  she  kept  the  girls' bonnets  presentable  ;  while 
last  year's  gowns  went  through  equally  wonderful  transforma- 
tions. Hortense  was  beginning  to  be  something  of  a  help 
about  housework  and  needle-work  ;  but  Genevieve  had  never 
yet  awakened  from  her  dream  of  a  world  of  music  in  which 
toil  and  care  were  not. 

Overworked,  unsupported  by  suitable  companionship, 
thwarted  by  her  own  father  in  her  endeavors  to  maintain 
the  family  comfort  and  respectability,  Julia  —  it  may  as  well 
be  confessed  —  had  terrible  hours  of  loneliness  and  depression. 
She,  too,  independent  as  she  appeared,  had  a  heart  that  hun- 
gered for  sympathy.  Little  things  sometimes  affected  her 
strangely.  The  sight  of  their  nearest  neighbor  coming  towards 
her  on  the  street  would  sometimes  fdl  her  with  a  strange, 
fluttering  joy ;  but  she  was  pretty  sure  to  go  home  and  have  a 
good  cry  after  it.  This  was  partly,  perhaps,  because  she 
could  not  understand  his  conduct  towards  her.  Sincerely  as 
she  had  befriended  him  in  his  affair  with  Marian,  he  had 
treated  her  with  scarcely  more  than  passing  courtesy  since  his 
return  home.  What  did  she  expect  of  him  that  he  did  not 
give  ?  Not  that  he  should  make  love  to  her,  very  sure.  She 
believed  that  he  had  never  forgotten,  and  could  never  forget, 
his  first  love ;  and  to  one  in  her  situation,  marriage  with  one 
in  his  was  out  of  the  question.  After  he  brought  Marian  to  her 
that  night,  she  hoped  that  his  intercourse  with  the  family  would 
be  renewed.  But,  though  he  stopped  to  talk  with  her  on  the 
street  about  the  unhappy  young  wife,  he  did  not  again  call  at 
the  house.  And  now  there  was  a  prospect  that  Marian  would 
speedily  be  divorced.  It  would  have  been  a  joy  to  Julia  to 
bring  the  two  lovers  again  together;  and  she  could  not  under- 
stand why,  when  she  thought  of  them,  she  was  sometimes  so 
wretched. 


428  farnell's  folly. 

She  still  possessed  the  ardent  friendship  of  her  pupil,  Pris- 
cilla  Rocknam  ;  and  this  led  to  almost  the  only  recreation  in 
which  she  indulged.  Mr.  Rocknam  visited  his  daughter  fre- 
quently, and  always  managed,  before  leaving  Waybrook,  to 
take  her  and  the  favorite  teacher  to  ride.  Of  agreeable 
manners  and  intelligent  conversation,  it  was  impossible  not 
to  like  him;  and  the  poor  tired  girl  enjoyed  these  brief  res- 
pites from  constant  toil  and  care.  But  being  the  cause  of 
Ward  Farnell's  waiting  once  or  twice  for  his  supper,  they 
made  him  miserably  jealous.  He  could  not  bear  that  Julia 
should  neglect  him  a  moment  for  anybody  else ;  he  had 
become  reconciled  to  her  absence  from  home  in  the  way  of 
business  (for  he  now  recognized  the  fact  that  it  was  her  hand 
that  fed  him),  but  in  the  way  of  pleasure  it  was  unpardonable. 

There  was  to  be  a  week's  vacation  early  in  May.  Priscil- 
la's  father  was  coming  to  take  her  home,  and  she  began  long 
beforehand  to  importune  Julia  to  go  with  them  and  spend 
the  holidays.  Of  course  she  had  Mr.  Rocknam's  cordial 
approval  of  the  plan  ;  and  as  the  time  approached,  Julia  found 
herself  in  such  absolute  need  of  rest  and  a  change  of  scene 
that  she  accepted  the  invitation. 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  can  go,  any  way  in  the  world,"  said 
Ward  Farnell,  when  she  told  him  of  her  intention. 

"  I  think  I  can  be  spared  for  a  few  days,"  replied  Julia, 
with  a  quiet  persistence,  which  irritated  the  old  gentleman. 

"  Your  place  is  at  home.  Your  duties  are  here.  Why 
should  3^ou  go  gadding?''   he  demanded  hotly. 

"Gadding.!"  O  father  !  have  n't  I  kept  at  home?  Don't  I 
attend  to  my  duties?  I  thought  you  and  the  girls  could  get 
along  without  me  for  a  little  while."  And  with  all  her  reso- 
lution, she  could  not  keep  back  her  tears. 

"  If  they  can,  I  can't,"  cried  Ward  Farnell,  flushed  and 
angry.  "  I  need  you.  I  've  a  right  to  you.  You  're  away 
from  me  enough,  as  it  is." 


JULIA    FARNELL.  429 

She  was  driven  to  retort,  "  \\'hy  am  I  away  from  you  ?  Is 
it  not  to  earn  the  bread  which  you  will  not  earn  yourself  ? 
Yes,  and  the  drink  which  you  will  have  in  spite  of  me,  and 
which  causes  you  to  treat  me  in  this  unjust  and  unkind  way. 
I  know  it  is  not  yoit  who  say  such  things  to  me.  You  are  not 
yourself  when  you  begrudge  me  a  little  relief  from  the  monot- 
ony and  weariness  of  the  life  I  lead."' 

She  could  not  have  helped  this  outburst,  even  if  she  had 
foreseen  that  she  was  to  remember  it  ever  after  with  shame 
and  remorse.  She  had  borne  all  she  could ;  and  for  a 
moment  she  forgot  that  he  was  her  father. 

"  Ungrateful,  —  to  fling  that  in  my  teeth  !  to  taunt  me  with 
the  bitter  truth  that  I  am  old  and  infirm,  and  that  you  earn 
mv  bread.  Why  should  n't  you  earn  it  ?  Have  n't  I  toiled 
for  my  children  all  my  life  t " 

So  saying,  he  turned  to  the  cupboard  and  mixed  a  glass  of 
grog.  Julia,  who  remembered  too  well  the  time  when,  soon 
after  his  failure,  he  vowed  that  no  daughter  of  his  should  soil 
her  hands  with  work,  answered,  not  in  anger,  but  with  break- 
ing grief  in  her  accents,  "  I  will  labor  for  your  support,  father, 
as  long  as  I  can.  But  have  a  care  !  I  can't  endure  ever)-- 
thing.  I  will  cheerfully  wear  out  my  body  for  you  ;  but  don't 
—  if  you  would  keep  me  with  you  —  don't  wear  out  my  spirit 
with  needless  pains  and  discouragements.  Don't  you  see 
that  my  strength  is  nearly  gone  }  My  patience  —  God  forgive 
me  !  —  is  going  too.  Father,  I  shall  die  if  I  don't  get  a  few 
days'  rest  away  from  here,  and  I  shall  take  it." 

It  was  with  many  misgivings  that  she  kept  that  resolution. 
She  planned  ever)-thing  for  his  comfort  in  her  absence  ;  but 
he  continued  grouty  over  his  grievance,  and  bade  her  but  a 
gruff  goodby.  She  kissed  the  girls,  and  gave  them  her  part- 
ino-  instructions  ;  then,  with  tears  and  a  heavy  heart,  went  to 
enjoy  as  best  she  might  the  recreation  her  friends  had  pre- 
pared for  her. 


430  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

Mr,  Rocknam  had  come  for  her  and  Priscilla  with  a  fine 
span  of  bays.  The  afternoon,  though  cool,  was  lovely,  and 
fragant  with  the  sweet  odors  of  spring.  The  hillsides  were 
green  again,  peach-trees  and  cheery-trees  were  in  blossom, 
wayside  willows  were  fringed  with  the  first  tender  leafage,  the 
forest  tops  were  thickening,  birds  were  singing  in  every  field 
and  orchard,  and  frogs  in  every  marsh.  The  ride  was  inspir- 
ing, her  companions  were  delightful,  and  Julia  could  not  long 
remember  her  sorrow  in  the  midst  of  so  much  beauty. 

Two  hours'  ride  brought  them  to  Remus,  and  Mr.  Rock- 
nam's  home,  a  lovely  village,  and  a  delightful  abode.  A 
kind  old  housekeeper  received  them,  and  two  younger 
daughters  of  Mr.  Rocknam  —  beautiful  girls  —  v/elcomed 
their  sister  and  her  friend  with  mingled  diffidence  and  glee. 

Julia  was  charmed  with  everything.  The  modern  house 
and  grounds  were  pervaded  by  an  air  of  comfort  and  culti- 
vated taste,  and  a  quiet  home  feeling,  soothing  to  her  soul ; 
and  there  she  passed  five  memorable  days,  to  which  she 
would  ever  aftenvards  have  looked  back  with  gratitude  and 
delight,  but  for  the  event  which  abruptly  terminated  her 
visit. 

The  sixth  day  was  Sunday,  and  on  Monday  she  was 
expecting  to  return  with  Priscilla  to  the  school,  and  to  the  old 
round  of  duties  from  which  she  knew  not  when  she  should 
ever  again  escape.  She  declined  an  invitation  to  attend 
church  services  in  the  morning,  wishing  to  spend  a  few  hours 
entirely  alone,  —  not  that  she  had  been  oppressed  with  atten- 
tions during  her  stay,  but  she  had  felt  that  she  owed  some- 
thing of  her  time  and  thought  to  her  pupil ;  and  morning 
walks  and  talks  with  Priscilla,  afternoon  rides  with  her  and 
her  father  and  the  girls,  and  evenings  spent  in  music  and 
conversation,  had  left  her  little  of  that  perfect  rest  and  pri- 
vacy for  which  she  longed. 

She  had  seen  Mr.  Rocknam  drive  away  with  the  family. 


JULIA    FARNELL.  43  I 

She  alone  remained  in  the  house.  The  day  was  one  of 
exceeding  brightness  and  sweetness;  the  church-bells  were 
ringing,  the  garden  was  full  of  blossoms  and  jubilant  birds, 
and  melody  and  fragrance  were  wafted  in  at  the  open 
windows.  Light  and  happiness  would  have  filled  her  heart, 
but  for  an  aching  sense  of  the  toil  and  care  and  loneliness 
awaiting  her  at  home. 

She  went  out  into  the  garden,  and  was  walking  there  amid 
a  cloud  of  pink  and  white  blossoms,  —  for  the  pear-trees  were 
now  in  bloom,  and  the  apple-tree  buds  were  bursting,  —  when, 
hearing  a  footstep  on  the  gravel,  she  turned,  and  saw  Mr. 
Rocknam  coming  towards  her. 

"  I  supposed  you  were  at  church,"  she  said,  as  he  apologized 
for  the  intrusion. 

He  replied,  "  I  thought  there  was  no  use  of  my  being 
where  my  heart  was  not.  My  heart  is  here  to-day.  Miss 
Farnell,  your  stay  with  us  has  been  too  short ;  I  can't  bear  to 
think  cf  your  going  back  to-morrow." 

"  The  thought  is  not  so  pleasant  to  me  as  I  wish  it  were," 
she  frankly  confessed.  "  I  have  had  a  delightful  visit,  and  I 
shall  not  soon  forget  all  your  kindness  to  me." 

"  Miss  Farnell,"  he  said  after  a  pause,  breaking  off  a  stem 
of  pear-blossoms  and  twirling  it  in  his  fingers,  "  why  need  you 
go  back  there  at  all  ?  " 

"  Oh ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  my  father  and  sisters !  my 
school !  " 

"  You  can't  expect  to  remain  in  the  school  always,"  he  said, 
standing  with  modest  manly  embarrassment  before  her  ;  while 
she  turned  away,  trying  to  appear  as  if  she  had  not  under- 
stood his  meaning.  "  Your  work  is  too  hard  there  ;  Priscilla 
sees  it,  and  I  see  it.  The  truth  is,  she  and  my  little  girls 
want  you  all  to  themselves,  —  not  as  a  teacher,  dear  Miss 
Farnell,"  he  added,  with  a  tenderness  restrained  by  the  most 
perfect  respect,  "but  as  —  as  a  mother.     Will  you  take  their 


432  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

mother's  place  ?  Will  you  make  me  the  most  grateful  of 
father's,  the  happiest  of  men  ?  " 

"  O  Mr.  Rocknam  !  "  said  Julia,  bursting  into  tears. 

He  took  her  hand.  Was  this  man  then  truly  in  love  with 
her  ?  But,  in  proposing  for  that  hand,  he  had  put  his  children's 
interest  foremost.  All  the  better,  if  she  was  to  accept  him  : 
for,  agreeable  as  he  was  to  her,  greatly  as  she  respected  him, 
he  did  not  —  perhaps  never  could  —  possess  her  supreme 
love. 

"  It  is  impossible  !  "  she  said,  as  he  gently  urged  an 
answer.  "  You  don't  know  my  life.  I  can  never  leave  my 
father  and  sisters." 

"  I  have  thought  of  all  that,"  he  replied.  "  You  need  not 
leave  them.  Do  you  know  why  I  took  you  to  visit  that  cot- 
tage of  mine  yesterday  ?  and  why  I  was  so  pleased  that  you 
were  pleased  with  it  ?  Because  I  design  that  for  your  father's 
family." 

"  But  I  can  never  consent  that  they  shall  live  upon  your 
bounty !  " 

"  Well,  they  need  not.  I  have  foreseen  your  objection, 
and  provided  against  it.  I  can  give  your  father  pleasant  em- 
ployment in  my  mills,  with  an  ample  salary.  You  will  have 
him  and  your  sisters  near  you,  and  the  more  you  do  for  them 
the  better  I  shall  be  pleased." 

"  But  m.y  father's  habits  !  "  said  Julia,  ashamed  and  dis- 
tressed. "  I  fear  they  have  quite  unfitted  him  for  any 
business." 

"To  restore  his  self-respect  will  be  the  first  step  towards 
reforming  his  habits.  A  place  of  trust  will  restore  his  self- 
respect.  You  see.  Miss  Farnell,  I  have  thought  of  all  your 
objections." 

"Oh,  no  !  there  is  one — one  which  you  don't  seem  to  have 
considered.  You  have  my  profoundest  gratitude,  my  sin- 
cerest  friendship,  but  —  " 


JULIA    FARXELL.  433 

"  But  not  your  love  ?     Say  it  frankly,  Miss  Farnell." 

"I  —  I  have  not  thought  of  you  as  a  lover." 

"  I  could  not  expect  that.  I  am  sixteen  years  older  than 
you  ;  and  no  doubt  I  seem  to  have  outgrown  the  romance  of 
youth  and  passion." 

She  lifted  her  eyes  to  his,  and  felt  a  thrill  of  surprise  to  see 
how  young  and  ardent  he  looked.  He  smiled  seriously,  as 
he  went  on. 

"  But  I  bring  to  you  a  whole  heart,  and  a  love  which  I 
know  is  pure  and  strong  and  permanent.  I  believe  I  can 
win  yours  :  will  you  let  me  tr)'  ?  " 

What  should  she  say .''  If  there  was  one  to  whom  her 
whole  heart  and  soul  could  go  out,  at  a  look  or  word  of  en- 
couragement, why  speak  of  it,  why  think  of  it,  since  that  word 
or  look  would  never  be  given  ?  Why  not  solace  herself  with 
this  proffered  sincere  affection,  and  escape  from  poverty  and 
weariness  of  life  into  this  peaceful,  happy  home  } 

After  a  brief  struggle  she  was  about  to  speak.  She  turned 
her  eyes  upon  the  strong,  good  man  who  had  honored  her. 
I  hardly  know  what  words  she  would  have  spoken  ;  but  just 
then  sounded  another  footstep  on  the  gravel ;  she  looked  over 
Mr.  Rocknam's  shoulder,  and  saw  hurrying  towards  her  one 
whom  she  recognized  with  a  cry  of  astonishment,  — 

"  William  Rayburn  ! " 


a8 


434  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 


CHAPTER   LI. 


SOMEBODY  S    BLUNDER. 


Tranquil  as  was  that  day,  the  night  before  had  been  wild 
with  wind  and  flying  clouds,  and  Waybrook  had  been  visited 
by  a  terrific  occurrence. 

One  by  one  the  lights  had  been  put  out,  and  the  good  peo- 
ple of  the  village  had  settled  down  to  their  usual  Saturday- 
evening  repose.  Sour-faced  Mrs.  Wetherspun  had  laid  her 
nightcapped  head  on  the  pillow,  and  once  more  scolded  her 
good  man  to  sleep,  for  his  "headstrong recklessness  in  rushin' 
into  the  Bubblin'  Run,"  contrary  to  her  better  judgment. 
The  Wintergreen  sisters  had  put  their  eighteen  auburn-gray 
ringlets  in  papers,  taken  their  Sunday  garments  out  of  the 
"  camfire  chist,"  and  retired.  All  was  silent  in  the  other  part 
of  the  house  too,  where  Lottie  was,  happy  with  her  husband 
and  children, — for  Geordie  was  at  home,  and  a  second  baby 
had  arrived  in  time  to  prevent  the  first  from  being  spoiled. 
Ward  Farnell  had  tossed  off  his  go-to-bed  toddy,  growled  his 
last  growl  over  Julia's  unfilial  absence,  and  blown  out  his  can- 
dle. At  last  only  one  light  was  visible,  and  that  was  in  Das- 
kill's  store. 

The  roaring  wind,  the  flying  clouds,  the  alternations  of 
moonlight  and  shadow  on  orchard  and  waterfall,  suited  Wil- 
liam Rayburn's  mood,  and  he  was  out  walking  long  after  his 
mother  was  asleep.  He  saw  Ward  Farnell's  light  go  out,  and 
drew  a  long  breath  as  he  passed  on.  Why  had  his  neighbor's 
house  looked  so  lonely  to  him  these  past  few  days  .'* 

He  walked  around  by  Mr.  Fenway's  house.     All  was  dark 


SOMEBODY  S    BLUNDER.  435 

there  too.  He  thought  of  Miles,  grown  careworn  over  his 
lawsuits  and  Marian's  divorce  case.  By  what  strange  fatality 
had  so  good  a  man  fallen  upon  such  evil  days  .-•  "  He  is  lying 
awake  there  now,  thinking  of  his  precious  son-in-law,  and 
maybe  having  a  curtain  lecture,"  Will  thought. 

He  knew  the  room  where  Marian  slept.  It  was  the  same 
she  had  in  the  old  days  when  he  used  often  to  walk  by  tho 
house  late  at  night,  and  gaze  up  at  her  window  with  sighs 
from  a  tortured  heart.  The  wind  blew ;  the  moonlight  came 
and  went ;  the  clouds  chased  each  other  over  the  sky,  some 
black  and  threatening,  some  with  silver  edges ;  and  with 
thoughts  as  wild  and  changeful,  but  with  a  heaven  full  of  stars 
over  all,  the  young  man  wandered  on. 

Passing  the  shop,  he  noticed  a  man  standing  in  the  shadow 
of  the  gateway.  Will  stopped,  confronted  him,  and,  after  look- 
ing at  him  intently  a  moment,  called  his  name,  — 

"  Mr.  Emmons  ! " 

The  head  clerk  stepped  out  and  joined  him.  "  You  may 
think  it  strange  to  see  me  here,"  he  said,  in  a  low,  mysterious 
tone  of  voice.  "  To  tell  the  truth,  I  was  watching.  I  am  very 
anxious." 

"  About  what  ?  "  William  asked. 

"  I  know  I  can  trust  you ;  and  perhaps  you  can  give  me 
some  advice,"  Emmons  replied,  as  they  walked  on  together. 
"  There  's  something  wrong  over  there," —  he  pointed  at  the 
light  in  Daskill's  counting-room,  —  "  and  I  'd  give  something 
to  know  what  it  is." 

"  I  heard  Mr.  Daskill  was  to  leave  town  to-day,"  remarked 
William. 

"  He  was  ;  but  he  could  n't  get  off.  He  is  looking  over  his 
private  papers  there  now.  He 's  up  to  some  new  game  ;  I  'm 
trying  to  find  out  what.  I  thought  that  woman  would  be 
around.     She's  connected  with  it.     But  I  haven't  seen  her." 

"  He  continues  to  meet  her  ?  " 


436  farnell's  folly. 

"Oh,  yes!  Only  two  nights  ago,"  whispered  the  head 
clerk,  "I  —  to  tell  the  truth,  I  was  anxious  about  things  ;  I 
was  on  the  watch,  and  I  saw  a  woman  in  black  pass  around 
to  the  back  of  the  store,  and  disappear.  Daskill  was  there, 
and  I  felt  sure  he  must  have  let  her  in  by  the  back  way.  So 
I  quietly  placed  myself  behind  a  cask  by  the  door,  and  waited 
to  see  her  come  out.  It  was  a  good  while  first ;  but  they 
finally  came  out  together.  I  heard  more  than  I  saw.  '  Any 
time  after  to-morrow  night,'  Daskill  said,  in  about  the  tone  T 
am  talking  now.  '  But  don't  be  in  a  hurr}\  I  must  be  w-ell 
out  of  the  way,  you  understand.'  She  said  something  I 
could  n't  catch ;  then  she  went  one  way  and  he  the  other." 

"  Did  you  see  her  face  }  " 

"  No,  but  I  can  swear  it  v/as  the  Chilgrove.  There  's  some- 
thing up.  He  has  been  prepari:-:g  for  it.  He  has  increased 
the  insurance  on  the  Folly ;  it  is  now  considerably  more  than 
the  mortgage.  At  the  same  time,  between  you  and  me,  he 
has  got  his  most  valuable  things  out  of  it  —  some  that  are 
both  mortgaged  and  insured.  And  everybody  is  gone  but  him 
and  the  boy.  When  he  comes  back,  he  will  board  at  the 
hotel ;  so  he  says.  But  he  is  sick  of  the  place,  sick  of  the 
business  ;  and  I  think  I  have  reason  to  be  alarmed." 

''  I  think  so,  too,  if  your  well-being  depends  on  him  and  his 
business,"  William  said. 

But  he  had  no  advice  to  give,  and  he  and  the  head  clerk 
parted  on  the  next  corner. 

Returning  not  very  long  after  in  the  direction  of  his  uncle's 
house,  Will  saw,  by  a  sudden  burst  of  moonlight,  a  dark  figure 
moving  on  before  him.  It  paused  a  moment  at  Carolus'sgate, 
then  glided  on.  The  moon  was  obscured  again,  and  the  figure 
was  lost  to  sight.  William  wiieeled  about  and  walked  back 
to  the  end  of  the  street,  returned,  and  met  the  figure  near  his 
uncle's  gate. 

"  Mrs.  Chilgrove  .''  "     She  stopped   and  put   aside  her  veil. 


somebody's  blunder.  437 

"  I  was  wondering,"  he  said,  "who  besides  myself  could  be 
out  so  late."' 

"This  is  the  only  time  I  have  ;  I  am  a  perfect  slave  in  that 
house  !  "  said  the  lady.  "  I  have  been  out  a  few  minutes,  — 
the  night  is  so  wild!  —  and  now  I  must  return  to  my  jail." 

"  Does  thcjailer  know  his  prisoner  takes  these  midnight  air- 
ings?" Will  asked. 

"  I  don't  trouble  myself  about  that.  Whose  business  is  it  ?" 
she  demanded  defiantly.  "  Can't  a  woman  step  out  on  the 
street  after  dark  but  somebody  must  spy  out  the  fact  and 
think  evil  of  it  ?  " 

"  If  you  mean  me,"  said  Will,  good-naturedly,  "  I  don't  like 
to  think  evil  of  anybody.  But  when  I  hear  of  your  taking 
these  mysterious  walks  again,  I  can't  help  wondering  whether 
it  is  the  old  intrigue  or  a  new  one." 

"Intrigue,  sir?  If  you  allude  to  my  acquaintance  with  Mr. 
Daskill,  I  suppose  you  know  he  has  left  town." 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  know  he  was  in  his  counting-room  an 
hour  ago." 

"  In  his  counting-room  ?    Adolphus  Daskill  ?  " 

The  lady  was  manifestly  so  surprised  and  incredulous  that 
Will  began  to  think  he  had  suspected  her  wrongly. 

"That's  impossible,"  she  added,  after  a  moment's  pause. 

"  Maybe,"  said  Will.  "  For  I  did  n't  see  him  there  ;  I  only 
saw  a  light." 

"  He  has  broken  up  housekeeping,  and  his  house  is  vacated; 
so  I  hear,"  she  rejoined,  in  a  more  careless  tone. 

"Yes;  everybody  is  gone  but  Mr.  Daskill  and  his  son." 

"  His  son  —  he  is  not  in  the  house  to-night  ?  " 

She  took  a  step  towards  him  ;  her  utterance  was  quick  and 
low,  and  there  was  something  startling  in  the  glow  of  her 
feline  eyes. 

"  I  infer  so  ;  though  I  know  nothing  about  it,"  said  Will. 
"But  you  seem  to  know,  and  to  be  interested." 


438  farnell's  folly. 

"Why  not?"  she  replied.  "I  liave  a  great  affection  for 
Clarence,  and  if  he  had  been  at  the  Folly  to-night,  I  would 
have  paid  him  a  last  visit.  He  is  with  Mrs.  Downey,  in  Buf- 
falo,—  or  should  be,  by  this  time.  It  must  have  been  Mr. 
Emmons  in  the  counting-room,  if  you  saw  a  light  there." 

William  did  not  think  it  best  to  speak  of  his  interview  with 
the  head  clerk,  so  he  merely  smiled  in  reply.  He  could  not 
quite  understand  the  lady,  but  felt  sure  she  was  moving  in 
some  dark  scheme.  She  was  evidently  shy  of  him,  and  anx- 
ious to  be  gone. 

"  I  can't  afford  to  risk  my  reputation,  talking  with  you  so 
late  at  night ! "  she  said,  with  a  light  laugh.     "  Good  night !  " 

She  hurried  towards  the  house,  while  Will  walked  slowly 
homeward,  pondering  the  problem. 

For  some  reason,  her  hand,  in  lifting  the  latch,  was  not  so 
steady  as  usual.  The  latch  clicked.  A  shrill,  cracked  voice 
called  out  within, — 

"  Who  's  there  ?  " 

"  Nobody  but  me,  Mr.  Carolus,"  she  answered  softly.  "  I 
thought  I  heard  somebody  around  the  house.  Can't  you 
sleep  ?" 

There  was  no  resisting  the  influence  of  those  fond,  persua- 
sive accents.     The  old  man  answered  gently,  — 

"  I  slept  till  I  heard  a  noise.  Nothing  but  the  wind,  I 
guess.     Did  you  find  your  letter  }" 

"What  letter?" 

"  One  the  store-boy  brought  around  this  afternoon  when 
you  had  gone  to  the  grocery.  From  Daskill's  son,  he  said. 
I  put  it  on  the  clock,  and  damned  if  I  did  n't  forgit  all  about 
it!" 

"  From  Clarence  !  " 

The  lady's  voice  was  no  longer  soft  and  sweet,  and  there 
was  pallor  and  alarm  in  her  face,  as  she  hurriedly  struck  a 
light,  seized  the  letter,  and  tore  it  open. 


somebody's  blunder.  439 

The  superscription  was  indeed  in  the  son's  bo3'ish  hand, 
but  the  contents  were  Daskill's. 

"  IJitid  it  impossible  to  g:t  off  to-day.  Clarence  and  I  remain 
one  night  longer.     J  shall  be  at  the  store  this  evening.      A.  D.'' 

She  uttered  a  low  cry  and  flew  from  the  house. 

In  his  astonishment,  old  Carolus  got  out  of  bed,  found  the 
lamp  burning  on  the  mantel-piece,  the  crumpled  note  on  the 
floor,  and  the  doors  wide  open.  He  was  wondering  what  it 
all  meant,  when  a  shout  from  the  street  came  in,  and  a  man 
rushed  by  the  house. 

William  Rayburn,  on  reaching  home,  had  been  attracted  by 
a  strange  light  up  High  Street.  It  flashed  and  flickered,  then 
suddenly  a  window  was  filled  with  a  red  blaze. 

It  was  he  who  gave  the  alarm  as  he  ran.  The  Folly  was 
on  fire. 


440  FAKNELL  S    FOLLY. 


CHAPTER   LII. 

HOW    ADOLPHUS    WENT    BACK    TO    MARIAN. 

At  first  only  his  own  wild  cry  and  the  sound  of  his  flying 
feet  rose  upon  the  night,  as  William  sped  through  the  village. 
Then  sashes  were  thrown  open,  other  voices  took  up  the 
shout,  other  footsteps  clattered  on  the  sidewalks,  fire  bells 
rang,  and  the  whole  town  seemed  to  awaken  into  tumult. 

Ha  thought  himself  the  foremost,  but,  crossing  the  bridge, 
he  was  aware  of  some  person  hurrying  on  before  him.  It 
was  a  woman.  There  was  no  mistaking  her.  She  was  quite 
out  of  breath  with  running  when  he  reached  her  side. 

"  You  again,  Mrs.  Chilgrove  !  " 

"  Clarence  is  there  !  "  she  said  in  a  hardly  audible  whisper, 
showing  a  Vv'hite  face  under  her  veil.  "Take  this  key  —  the 
back  door ! " 

It  was  the  latch-key  that  had  been  Marian's. 

He  had  only  paused  to  speak  with  her.  As  he  was  starting 
up  High  Street,  a  man  rushing  down  Main  Street  joined  him, 
and  the  two  ran  on  together.  Neither  spoke  until  they  had 
reached  the  front  of  the  burning  house.  There  the  man 
bounded  past  him  up  the  steps,  between  the  two  couchant 
lions,  thrust  a  key  into  the  latch  and  opened  the  door.  'The 
hall  seemed  all  on  fire ;  the  staircase  crackled  and  roared. 

The  man  was  about  to  rush  in.     William  held  him  back. 

"  Mr.  Daskill,  you  can't  pass  there." 

"  I  must !  "  said  Adolphus.  "  My  son  is  in  his  room  !  the 
third  story  !  I  left  him  asleep  !  " 

"  Have  you  ladders  .''  "  cried  William.     "  Try  a  window  !  " 


HOW    ADOLPHUS    WENT    BACK    TO    MARIAN  44I 

The  fire  seemed  to  have  started  below  ;  perhaps  from  a 
barrel  of  kerosene  left  running,  or  some  other  inflammable 
material  in  the  cellar.  It  \vas  rapidly  working  its  way  up 
through  the  hc^use,  and  it  was  evident  that  the  back  stairs 
were  in  no  better  condition  than  the  front.  Adolphus  shouted 
under  the  boy's  window.  Getting  no  reply,  he  darted  away. 
William  stayed  only  to  shut  the  door  and  cut  off  the  inrjrcss 
of  fresh  air,  then  followed  him  to  the  barn.  The  carriage- 
room  was  opened  and  a  ladder  dragged  out.  Will  ran  his 
eye  along  il:,  then  up  the  side  of  the  house.  It  would  hardly 
reach  the  second-story  windows. 

"  Another  ladder !  —  we  can  lash  the  two  together,"  he  said, 
in  the  hurry  of  the  moment. 

There  were  other  ladders,  but  Mr.  Daskill  did  not  know 
where  they  were  kept.  No  time  was  to  be  lost  hunting  for 
them.  The  single  ladder  was  quickly  raised.  There  were 
other  men  on  the  spot  by  this  time  ;  they  held  the  foot  while 
William  mounted  after  Adolphus. 

The  attempt  was  made  at  a  corner  where  the  fire  seemed 
to  have  made  least  headway.  The  ladder  was  placed  at  a 
side  window  of  the  room  which  had  been  Marian's  bridal 
chamber.  The  blinds  were  closed  ;  Adolphus  wrenched  them 
open,  smashed  glass  and  sash  with  a  hatchet,  and  entered. 

The  fire  had  not  yet  penetrated  the  room,  but  it  was  filled 
with  smoke,  which  now  poured  out  in  dense  volumes  ;  and 
hardly  had  William  reached  the  top  of  the  ladder,  where  he 
could  look  in,  when  a  burst  of  flame  came  from  the  farther  side. 

Adolphus  had  found  the  door  leading  to  the  upper  landing, 
and  opened  it.  There  he  was  met  by  a  sight  as  appalling  as 
that  which  had  turned  him  back  from  the  hall  door.  His  way 
to  the  boy's  chamber  led  up  a  stairway  wrapped  in  flames.  The 
heat  and  smoke  and  uproar  were  terrible  ;  it  seemed  as  if  he 
must  once  more  recoil.     But  he  passed  on,  and  disappeared. 

The  in-rushing  wind  cleared  the  smoke  a  little,  and  in  the 


442 


FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 


awful  moment  that  followed,  Will  had  a  dun  glimpse  of  a 
white  dove  suspended  over  the  white  bridal  bed.  An  instant 
later  —  he  did  not  know  how  it  happened  —  fire  burst  in,  and 
dove  and  bed  were  enveloped  in  a  sheet  of  flame.  He  heard 
a  voice  of  agony  calling  for  help,  and,  climbing  into  the 
room,  amid  the  intense  heat  and  stifling  smoke,  saw  Mr.  Das- 
kill  coming  down  the  burning  stairs  with  a  burden  in  his  arms. 

"  This  way  !  this  way  !  "  Will  shouted,  for,  at  the  foot  of  the 
flight,  the  man  seemed  to  be  blindly  groping ;  he  was  even 
turning  in  the  wrong  direction. 

"  This  way,  this  way,  Mr.  Daskill ! "  And,  guided  by  the 
voice,  the  father  staggered  into  the  room,  his  face  blackened, 
his  hair  and  beard  burnt  short,  but  bearing  his  son  v/rapped 
from  head  to  foot  in  a  blanket. 

"  Help,  for  God's  sake  !  "  said  Adolphus.     "  I  can't  see  ! " 

W^ill  took  his  burden  from  him  and  rushed  to  the  window 
still  gasping  out,  "  This  way  !  this  way  !  " 

He  was  himself  blinded  and  choked.  A  voice  he  knew 
cheered  him  from  without.  It  was  Geordie  Lorkins  on  the 
ladder.     "  Give  him  to  me!  "  yelled  Geordie. 

Holding  by  the  boy's  arms.  Will  lowered  him  over  the  sill, 
and  followed,  supporting  him  from  above,  while  Geordie  sup- 
ported him  below.  At  the  same  time  he  let  the  enveloping, 
blanket  slip  away  from  the  boy's  face.  Then  he  paused  a 
moment,  to  secure  his  hold  on  the  ladder,  regain  breath  and 
sight,  and  call  back  once  more  to  Adolphus  groping  at  the 
window. 

Suddenly  the  ladder  received  a  violent  jar,  and  Will,  then 
on  his  way  down,  was  nearly  hurled  from  his  position  by  some- 
thing striking  his  shoulder.  A  dark  body  shot  past  him.  He 
looked  up  ;  Adolphus  had  disappeared.  He  looked  down  ; 
there,  between  the  foot  of  the  ladder  and  the  house,  lay  a 
human  shape.  In  his  agony,  and  blindness,  and  failing 
strength,  Mr.  Daskill  had  missed  his  footing  and  fallen. 


HOW    ADOLPHUS    WENT    BACK    TO    MARIAN.  443 

Clarence  v/as  not  burned  at  all.  He  had,  no  doubt,  been 
smothered  in  his  room  before  the  fire  reached  it, — perhaps 
before  he  was  fully  awake.  He  was  laid  on  the  green  grass 
by  the  roadside,  and  his  father  was  taken  up  and  placed  be- 
side him. 

"  Mr.  Daskill,"  said  Miles  Fenway,  bending  over  his  son-in- 
law,  "I  fear  you  are  badly  hurt." 

"Is  ho  —  safe?"  Adolphus  articulated  with  difficulty,  re- 
viving a  little. 

"  Safe  from  the  fire  —  yes." 
"  Alive  ?  " 

"  I  'm  afraid  not.  He  was  probably  dead  when  you  found 
him." 

"That  cursed  woman  !"  groaned  Adolphus. 
At  the  same  time  a  black  female  figure,  closely  veiled,  hov- 
ering on  the  outskirts  of  the  fire-lit  crowd,  turned  and  fled 
away  in  the  darkness.     Only  one  seemed  to  notice  her,  and 
he  did  not  care  to  pursue  her. 

"  V/hat  woman  ? "  Miles  inquired. 

There  was  a  long  silence  on  the  part  of  the  fallen  man,  ex- 
cept that  he  breathed  heavily  at  intervals,  with  faint  groans. 
Suddenly  he  revived  again,  and  whispered,  — 
"  Is  this  Mr.  Fenway  ?  " 

"Yes,  Mr.  Daskill,"  said  Miles,  in  tones  of  deep  kindness 
and  sympathy,  "They  are  harnessing  your  horse.  I  will 
take  you  home  to  my  house,  where  everything  shall  be  done 
for  you.     The  boys  have  gone  for  the  doctors." 

Again  Adolphus  tried  to  speak.  "  Tell  Marian  — "  But 
his  words  died  away  in  a  groan. 

The  horse  was  now  brought.  Tenderly  the  injured  man 
was  lifted  and  placed  with  his  dead  boy  upon  a  mattress  in 
the  wagon.  Mr.  Fenway  and  Geordie  Lorkins  walked  on 
each  side,  as  it  moved  slowly  down  the  road.  The  horse,  of 
his  own  accord,  turned  up  at  the  old  familiar  gate. 


444  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 


CHAPTER   LIII. 

WARD    FARNELI.'S    PLAN,    AND    WHAT    CAME    OF    IT. 

"  That  was  the  best  built  house  in  the  whole  country,"  said 
Ward  Farnell,  leaning  against  a  fence,  and  viewing  from  a 
comfortable  distance  the  melting  away  in  flame  and  smoke  of 
his  once  fine  fabric.  "  And  I  believe  Daskill  burnt  it  up  for 
the  insurance." 

"  That  ain't  likely,  with  his  own  son  in  the  house,"  said 
Mr.  Emmons,  who  stood,  pale  and  excited,  watching  the  fire. 
"  What  do  you  think,  William  ?  "  and  the  head  clerk  gave 
Will  a  significant  look. 

"I  think,"  Will  replied,  "that  Mr.  Daskill  has  shown  a 
devotion  and  a  heroism  which  will  go  far  to  redeem  his  worst 
faults  in  most  people's  eyes." 

"Well,  they  may  think  what  they  like,"  said  Waid  Farnell, 
filling  his  short  pipe.  "  I  have  my  opinion.  The  finest  house, 
the  best-planned  house,  William !  I  don't  care  where  the  other 
is.  The  way  of  the  world,  the  way  of  the  world.  Riches  have 
wings.  Everything  ends  in  smoke,  more  or  less.  Then  we 
go  —  who  knows  where  ?  Dust  to  dust,  dust  to  dust,  Wil- 
liam." He  struck  a  match  on  his  trousers  and  lighted  his 
pipe.  "  What  is  there  in  life  worth  living  for,  when  you  come 
to  think  about  it  ?  "  he  continued  to  moralize,  as  he  and  Will 
started  down  the  road  together. 

"  Very  little,"  said  William,  "  if  we  live  from  mean  mo- 
tives." 

"  Life  ain't  what  it  used  to  be,  William.  With  all  its  mod- 
ern   improvements,  —  railroads,    telegraphs,    machiner}',   hot 


WARD    FARNELL  S    PLAN.  445 

and  cold  ^vater  all  over  the  house,  —  the  world  has  been 
making  progress  backwards,  —  did  it  ever  occur  to  you? 
There  ain't  the  heartiness  in  it  there  used  to  be  ;  there  ain't 
the  real  solid  enjoyment." 

"The  lack  may  be  in  ourselves,"  Will  suggested. 

"  I  can  remember,"  Ward  Farnell  went  on,  puffing  his  pipe, 
"  when  there  was  such  a  thing  as  society.  There  's  no  society 
now-days.  There  's  what  we  call  intercourse  with  our  fellow- 
men,  but  there  's  no  depth,  no  depth  to  it,  William.  I  can 
remember  when  children  were  obedient  and  dutiful.  Look 
at  'em  now !  Where  's  the  veneration  for  the  aged .-'  The 
honor  due  to  parents .''     Echo  answers  —  Gone  !  " 

"  You  can  hardly  say  that,  from  your  own  experience  of 
children,  Mr.  Farnell." 

The  old  bankrupt  grunted,  puffed,  and  resumed,  — 

"  Look  at  Daskill !  flourishing  like  a  green  bay-tree  an  hour 
ago,  and  now  where  is  he  .''  Where  '11  we  all  be  a  hundred 
years  from  now  .''  Ambition  — what  a  foolish  thing  it  is  !  A 
man  struggles  for  fame,  power,  wealth,  and  what  is  the  good 
of  it  all  ?  There  's  only  one  object  in  life  for  a  wise  man. 
Do  you  know  what  it  is  ?  " 

"  I  have  my  own  idea  of  it,"  Will  answered. 

"  It  is  the  care  of  a  man's  constitution,"  said  Ward  Farnell. 
"  And  I  believe,  if  I  do  say  it,  that  I  have  the  best  consti- 
tution of  any  man  in  the  country.  No  disease  ;  I  come  of  a 
long-lived  race.  I  see  no  reason  why  I  should  n't  live  to  be 
a  hundred  years  old." 

"  The  worthlessness  of  life  you  complain  of  seems  to  be  a 
pretty  good  reason."  And  William,  thinking  of  Julia,  could 
have  mentioned  others. 

Ward  Farnell  puffed  his  pipe  with  satisfaction,  and  went  on. 

"I'm  going  to  try  the  experiment,  just  from  curiosity,  to 
see  how  long  a  man  of  good  habits  and  sound  constitution 
can  preserve  himself.     You  don't  see  me   climbing  ladders 


446  farnell's  folly, 

and  rushing  into  burning  houses.  I  never  trust  myself  on  a 
steamboat  or  railroad  train,  —  or  in  a  carriage,  for  that  mat- 
ter. I  don't  take  any  risks,  either  on  or  behind  a  horse.  I 
never  sleep  in  any  of  their  big  'leven-story  hotels.  I  am 
scrupulous  what  I  eat  and  drink.  In  short,  I  take  care  of 
myself.     Ain't  that  good  philosophy,  William  ?  " 

William  was  moved  to  reply,  — 

"  I  think  it  is  very  bad  philosophy." 

"  How  so,  how  so,  William  .''  " 

"  Oh,  don't  you  see  !  life  would  be  worth  infinitely  more  to 
you  if  you  should  live  less  for  yourself  and  more  for  others?" 

With  an  abrupt  gesture.  Ward  Farnell  took  his  pipe  from 
his  mouth. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  that,  Will  Rayburn  ?  " 

"  Well,  for  instance,"  Will  replied,  "  I  have  been  very  much 
surprised  to  see  you  sometimes  sit  in  your  back  yard,  reading 
your  paper  or  smoking  your  pipe,  while  you  have  pennitted 
your  daughters  to  wait  upon  you,  work  for  you,  even  go  to  the 
well  and  bring  you  water,  while  you  filled  the  way  and  obliged 
them  to  walk  around  you,  when  you  might  so  much  better 
have  done  such  things  for  yourself  and  them.  Pardon  me  for 
saying  it,  but  I  think  you  take  altogether  too  much  care  of 
your  own  constitution  and  too  little  of  theirs.  You  are  a 
strong  man,  Mr.  Farnell,  and  you  forget  that  they  are  delicate 
girls.  You  may  well  ask  what  there  is  in  life  worth  the  liv- 
ing. What  is  a  hundred  years  of  such  existence  ?  When  / 
cease  to  have  any  noble  or  unselfish  aims,  but  contentedly 
settle  down,  a  burden  upon  others,  then,  good  Lord,  deliver 
me  !" 

Will  had  long  been  wanting  to  say  this ;  and  now  his  pent- 
up  feeling  inspired  the  energy  with  which  he  spoke. 

"  In  comparison  with  such  living  death,"  he  went  on,  as  the 
old  man  remained  silent,  "I  respect  and  envy  Mr.  Daskill, 
on  his  mattress  there,  —  much  as   I    dislike  him  for   many 


WARD    FARNELL  S    PLAN.  44/ 

things,  —  because  there  was  one  object  beside  himself  which 
he  lived  for,  and  was  willing  to  die  for." 

Ward  Farnell  still  kept  a  dogged  silence.  His  pipe  was 
out. 

"  I  am  sorr}'  to  wound  your  feelings,"  said  \\"\\]  ;  "  but, 
really,  it  is  n't  I,  it  is  the  truth." 

Still  no  answer.  Ward  Farnell  jogged  on  in  sullen  dis- 
content. At  his  own  door  he  returned  a  resentful  grunt  to 
the  young  man's  cordial  good-night,  and  entered  the  house. 
Hortense  called  down  the  stairs  to  ask  about  the  fire.  Was 
it  Mr.  Daskill's  house? 

"  Yes !  "  answered  the  paternal  voice,  shortly.  "Why  don't 
you  go  to  bed  ? " 

He  found  a  lighted  lamp  waiting  for  him,  but  an  empty  water- 
pail  and  pitcher.  As  Ward  Farnell,  in  his  extraordinary  so- 
licitude for  his  constitution,  always  made  it  a  point  to  water 
his  whiskey,  he  was  vexed  at  this  negligence;  and  the  girls 
could  hear  him  grumbling  that  it  would  n't  have  happened  if 
Julia  had  done  her  duty  and  remained  at  home.  These  were 
the  last  words  they  ever  heard  from  his  lips. 

They  slept  well  after  the  excitement  of  a  fire  in  the  village, 
rose  late  on  Sunday  morning,  dressed  themselves  leisurely, 
and  went  laughing  down-stairs.  Then  they  suddenly  ceased 
to  laugh.  They  found  the  lamp  burnt  out,  the  sugar-bowl 
uncovered  beside  it  on  the  kitchen  table,  and  a  tumbler  half 
full  of  whiskey,  with  a  spoon  in  it,  waiting  for  the  customary 
dilution  ;  the  back  door  wide  open  and  the  old  man  outside, 
lying  on  his  face  at  the  foot  of  the  steps,  with  his  broken 
water-pitcher,  the  handle  still  in  his  hand.  In  starting  for 
the  well,  Ward  Farnell  seemed  to  have  met  with  one  of  those 
accidents  which  will  sometimes  happen  to  men  of  the  most 
careful  habits  and  the  soundest  constitutions. 

The  terrified  screams  of  the  girls  alarmed  their  neighbors ; 
and  while   Mrs.  Rayburn  stayed  to  help  and  console  them, 


448  farnell's  folly. 

William  hastened  to  get  a  horse  and  drive  over  to  Remus  for 
Julia.  This,  then,  was  the  business  that  brought  him,  and 
occasioned  the  untimely  interruption  of  her  interview  with 
Mr.  Rocknam. 

William  did  not  seem  to  see  her  companion,  but  advancing 
quickly  towards  her,  with  a  look  of  earnest  and  anxious  sym- 
pathy, took  her  hand  and  said,  — 

"I  am  sorry  to  come  here  wi.h  bad  news." 

"  My  father  ?  "  she  said,  with  sudden  foreboding. 

"Yes,  I  have  come  to  take  you  home." 

"  He  is  sick  ?  "  she  asked,  looking  white  and  scared. 

"  He  is  dead,"  replied  William,  with  kind  directness. 

Mr.  Rocknam  now  came  forward,  and,  seeing  how  pale  and 
agitated  she  was,  wished  to  conduct  her  to  a  bench  near  by; 
but  she  held  herself  bravely  up  to  hear  William's  brief  expla- 
nation. 

"Mr.  Daskill's  house  was  burned  last  night,  and  I  walked 
home  with  your  father  from  the  fire.  He  spoke  to  the  girls, 
and  then,  it  seems,  took  a  pitcher  to  get  some  water,  and  fell 
as  he  was  going  down  the  steps.  His  death,  it  will  be  some 
comfort  for  you  to  know,  was  probably  instantaneous  and 
painless." 

"  Oh,  if  I  had  never  left  home  !  "  said  Julia.  "  No,  thank 
you,  Mr.  Rocknam  ;  I  do  not  need  anything.  The  greatest 
kindness  you  can  show  me  now  is  to  let  me  go  with  as  little 
delay  as  possible." 

"  Is  yours  a  fast  horse  }  "  Mr.  Rocknam  asked  William. 

"  Only  moderately  so,"  Will  admitted,  foreseeing  what  was 
to  come  next. 

"Then  perhaps  Miss  Farnell  will  permit  me  to  drive  her 
over  ;  my  span  is  harnessed." 

A;];ain  she  thanked  him,  but  said,  — 

"  I  w!ll  go  with  Mr.  Rayburn,  since  he  has  been  so  kind  as 
to  come  for  me.     I  shall  want  to  talk  with  him  about  —  " 


WARD    FARN'ELl's    PLAX.  449 

In  that  reply  Mr.  Rocknam  seemed  to  have  received  a 
blow.  He  fell  back  a  little,  while  ^^'illiam  stepped  to  her 
side  (they  were  going  towards  the  house),  and  said  in  a  low 
tone,  — 

"  Don't  lose  a  minute's  time  out  of  courtesy  to  me.  He 
can  take  you  home  much  quicker  than  I  can." 

"  I  have  decided  to  go  with  you,"  she  said,  and  hurried  into 
the  house. 

Mr.  Rocknam  rallied  like  the  brave  and  generous  man  he 
was,  and  when  she  was  ready  to  start,  proposed  to  let  V/il- 
liam  drive  his  team,  and  to  send  his  coachman  after  them 
with  Vv'illiam's  horse.  This  oiler,  too,  she  declined,  and  the 
fleet  roadsters  remained  to  bring  home  from  church  his 
motherless  girls ;  while  with  a  curiously  sad  and  wistful  gaze 
he  stood  and  watched  his  fair  guest  ride  away  with  her  young 
neighbor.  Ralph  Rocknam  felt  that  he  would  have  given 
half  his  estate  if  the  old  man  Farnell  had  chosen  some  less 
inopportune  moment  for  that  fatal  step  into  the  dark. 

Alone  with  Julia,  William  gave  her  some  details  of  the  last 
night's  calamity.  How  strange  that  she  should  have  known 
nothing  of  it,  but  that  she  should  have  had  that  talk  with 
Mr.  Rocknam  in  the  garden  while  her  father  was  lying  dead 
in  the  house  at  home  ! 

"  I  can  never  forgive  myself  !  "  she  exclaimed,  in  an  out- 
burst of  remorseful  feeling.  William  blamed  her  for  thus 
blaming  herself.  "  How  can  I  help  ir,"  she  said,  "  when  I 
remember  that  almost  my  last  talk  with  him  was  an  unkind 
one  ? " 

"  Not  unkind  on  your  part,  I  am  sure  !  "  said  William,  with 
manly  emotion.  "  The  wonder  has  been  that  your  kindness 
and  patience  should  hold  out  so  long.  I  know  more  of  your 
trials  than  you  think,  and  more  of  your  heroic  conduct,  too. 
Now  I  can't  bear  that  you  should  be  unjust  to  yourself." 

"  But  you  don't  know  how  weak  and  fretful  I  had  become. 
29 


450  farnell's  folly. 

O  William !  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  all  ;  I  wish  I  could  con- 
fess, and  get  rid  of  this  dreadful  burden." 

"  You  need  not  tell  me  anything,  I  know,  I  feel,  all  that 
you  have  suffered.  No  woman  in  the  world  could  have  borne 
up  more  courageously.  Not  a  day  or  a  night  but  I  have  seen 
you,  in  my  mind's  eye,  Julia,  You  have  been  a  shining  light 
to  me.  When  Miles  Fenway  was  near  breaking  down  under 
family  troubles,  I  said  what  I  never  expected  to  say  to  him 
or  to  you,  —  I  said,  'You  among  men,  Mr,  Fenway,  and  a 
certain  woman  I  know,  are  to  me  a  constant  joy  and  satisfac- 
tion, though  she  does  n't  know  it,  and  never  will'  But  you 
know  it  now." 

Julia  was  overcome  by  the  tenderest  emotions  of  surprise 
and  gratitude,  and  under  all  her  agitation,  a  deep  sense  of 
blessedness  swelled  her  heart. 

"  O  William,"  she  said,  "I  know  how  sincere  you  are,  or  I 
could  not  believe  what  you  tell  me  !  I  did  n't  suppose  you 
ever  thought  of  me  in  any  way." 

He  turned  and  looked  in  her  face,  with  an  indefinably  frank 
and  ardent  expression. 

"  I  believe,"  said  he,  "  there  's  nobody  in  the  world  I  have 
thought  of  more." 

"  Except  one,  of  course,"  she  replied.  "  But  why  —  if  you 
have  felt  any  friendship  for  me  —  why  have  you  been  so  care- 
ful not  to  show  it,  when  I  have  stood  in  such  need  of  friend- 
ship ?    I  thought  you  very  cold." 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  the  truth  ?  "  he  said.  "  I  am  anything  but 
cold.  I  have  a  great,  hungry  heart.  I  wanted  to  go  to  you 
for  those  French  lessons,  and  —  well,  yes,  I  may  as  well  say 
it  now  —  for  something  better  still,  your  sympathy,  Julia 
Farnell.  But  something  I  heard  made  me  think  I  'd  better 
keep  away." 

"  What  did  you  hear  ?  " 

"  That  you   were   to  be   married.      Now,   I  was  n't   vain 


WARD    FAKNELL S    PLAN.  451 

enough  to  suppose  that  our  coming  together  would  endanger 
your  peace  of  mind.  But  I  had  played  a  losing  part  in  one 
affair,  and  I  thought  I  "d  better  keep  clear  of  another." 

Julia  could  hardly  trust  herself  to  speak,  such  a  tremor  ran 
through  her  whole  being.  At  length  she  said  in  a  constrained 
voice.  — 

"  I  never  dreamed  of  such  a  reason,  William." 

"  But  was  n't  it  a  good  one  ?  " 

"  Hardly,  since  it  was  based  on  a  misapprehension.  I  was 
not  engaged." 

*'  Perhaps,  then,  there  was  all  the  more  reason  for  my  avoid- 
ing you.  I  felt  certain  of  one  thing,  that  if  you  did  n't  marry 
it  would  n't  be  the  fault  of  a  certain  ver)-  worthy  man.  Was 
there  danger  of  my  preventing  that  good  fortune  from  be- 
falling you  .?  I  did  n't  know.  But  I  thought  I  ought  to  keep 
aloof  till  the  matter  was  decided." 

"  You  really  think  it  would  have  been  good  fortune  for 
me?" 

"  Certainly,  it  seemed  so.  I  like  your  Mr.  Rocknam.  He  's 
as  fine  a  specimen  of  a  frank,  honest  gentleman  as  I  ever 
saw.  It  cut  him  to  the  heart  to  see  me  bring  you  away;  but 
how  magnanimous  he  was  !  I  think  it  would  be  an  excellent 
match  ;  always,  of  course,  providing  he  is  the  man  of  your 
choice." 

"  But  if  —  I  do  not  love  him  —  supremely  ?  " 

"Some  of  us  love  only  our  ideal  supremely.  The  right 
person  never  comes.  Shall  we  wait,  then,  and  miss  the  hap- 
piness we  might  have,  because  we  don't  find  the  perfection 
we  imagine  ?  It 's  a  serious  question  ;  one  I  shouldn't  like 
to  answer  for  another.  But  there  is  danger  of  our  expecting 
too  much  ;  and  we  may  let  the  honest  substance  slip,  while 
we  are  groping  for  a  shadow." 

"  William,"  said  Julia,  moved  by  a  sudden  and  strong  im- 
pulse, "I  shall  never  marry  Mr.  Rocknam.     If  you  had  come 


452  FARNELL  S    FOLLY, 

five  minutes  later,  I  might  have  given  him  a  promise  I  should 
regret.  Much  as  I  respect  and  like  him,  it  was  —  let  me  own 
to  you  how  weak  and  wicked  I  am  —  it  was  chiefly  because 
of  my  father  that  I  listened  to  him.  I  was  worn  out  and  dis- 
couraged. Now  everything  is  changed.  I  cannot  feel  thank- 
ful enough  that  you  came  in  time." 

"  And  you  will  not  regret  ?  " 

"  I  shall  regret  only  the  disappointment  I  know  it  will  be 
to  him.     I  can  now  live  for  my  sisters  and  be  happy." 

Then  for  a  long  while  both  were  silent.  They  were  riding 
past  fragrant  farms  and  peach  and  pear  and  apple  orchards, 
amidst  a  Sunday  quiet  enhanced  rather  than  broken  by  the 
songs  of  the  finches  and  robins  by  the  roadside,  and  the  far- 
off  drowsy  crowing  of  cocks.  Something  holier  than  the 
peace  and  beauty  of  the  May-time  seemed  to  breathe  about 
them  ;  something  sweeter  than  the  scent  of  blossoms  stole 
into  their  hearts. 


MRS.    FENWAY    COMES    ROUND.  453 


CHAPTER   LIV. 

MRS.    FENWAY    COMES    ROUND. 

I  REMEMBER  Well  how,  in  later  years,  Mrs.  Fenway  used  to 
talk  about  the  last  terrible  crisis  in  the  affairs  of  her  family. 

"  At  first  I  thought  it  a  dreadfully  strange  freak  on  my  hus- 
band's part  to  bring  Mr.  Daskill  home  in  that  condition,  —  a 
man  that  had  deceived  and  disappointed  us,  and  broken  my 
poor  child's  heart.  There  had  been  a  time,  I  confess,  when 
I  was  anxious  for  a  reconciliation  ;  but,  now  that  the  fine  house 
was  burned  to  the  ground  (and  good  riddance  to  it,  for  it  had 
been  the  cause  of  all  our  troubles!),  and  Mr.  Daskill  had 
ruined  himself  as  well  as  us  (and,  with  his  mutilated  features, 
he  could  never  be  anything  but  a  source  of  misery  and  dis- 
tress to  us  if  he  lived),  I  must  say,  I  wished  we  might  never 
have  beheld  him  again.  But  I  saw  afterwards  that  my  hus- 
band was  right  about  it.  And  when  I  came  to  myself  a  little, 
and  saw  Adolphus  Daskill,  who  had  wooed  and  won  our  dear 
Marian  in  this  house, —  yes,  and  stood  up  and  defied  and  threat- 
ened us  in  it  the  very  last  time  he  was  there, — when  I  saw 
him  laid  low,  and  suft'ering  untold  torments,  all  because  of  his 
devotion  to  that  unhappy  boy,  my  own  feelings  underwent  a 
change.     I  gave  up',  and  did  all  I  could  for  him. 

"As  for  Marian  —  oh,  such  a  tender,  forgiying,  beautiful 
spirit  as  she  showed,  when  she  had  got  over  the  fear  and  hor- 
ror of  the  thing  a  little,  and  found  that  the  man  who  led  her 
out  of  the  house  a  happy  and  hopeful  bride,  and  then  wronged 
her  so  cruelly,  had  come  back  to  her  maimed  and  helpless, 
and  needing  all  our  sympathy  and  care  !     She  had  been  in  a 


454  FARNELL  S    FOLLY. 

low  state  of  health  ever  since  that  awful  night  in  the  snow- 
storm. But  the  new  excitement  roused  her.  She  overcame 
the  natural  repugnance  she  had  to  everything  distressing,  and 
showed  a  strength  of  character  I  did  n't  know  she  possessed. 
The  sufferings  she  had  gone  through  had  developed  some 
noble  traits  in  her ;  and  I  believed  she  might  then  have  done 
for  Clarence,  when  it  was  too  late,  what  she  had  not  been  able 
to  do  before.-  She  had  given  up  the  idea  that  her  own  hap- 
piness was  the  main  thing  for  her  and  everybody  else  to  live 
for,  —  an  idea  which  I  had  done  more  than  anybody  else  to 
encourage,  by  my  foolish  indulgence. 

"Mr.  Daskill  was  perfectly  conscious  of  his  condition,  and 
though  he  did  n't  say  much,  I  believe  he  was  sincerely  grate- 
ful and  contrite.  He  loved  to  have  Marian  sit  by  him ;  and 
once  he  said  to  her,  '  I  flung  away  my  happiness !  I  flung 
away  such  love  as  yours  ! '  Another  time,  after  he  had  been 
a  long  while  silent,  asleep,  as  she  supposed,  he  burst  out  with 
a  groan,  '  O  God,  Marian,  if  I  had  never  let  that  fiend  of  a 
woman  come  between  us  !  You  don't  know  all,  you  don't 
know  the  worst !     I  have  fallen  into  a  pit  of  my  own  digging.' 

"  What  the  worst  was,  he  never  told.  But  I  've  no  doubt  it 
was  something  about  the  '  fiend  of  a  woman,'  as  he  called  her, 
and  the  way  the  house  was  set  on  fire.  It  is  generally 
believed  she  set  it,  with  his  connivance,  though,  by  some  mis- 
take, at  the  wrong  time.  Though  she  was  fishing  for  old  Car- 
olus's  money,  it  was  just  like  her  to  have  other  schemes 
a-hatching.  What 's  more  probable  than  that  she  intended  to 
make  what  she  could  out  of  Carolus,  help  Mr.  Daskill  save 
what  he  could  out  of  the  wreck  of  his  property,  and  finally  go 
off  and  join  him  some  place  where  they  were  not  so  well 
known  ?  She  was  never  seen  after  the  night  of  the  fire. 
Whether  it  was  remoi^se  that  drove  her  away,  or  fear  of  detec- 
tion, nobody  knows ,  both,  may  be.  There  was  evidence 
enough    against   her,  and  she   must   have   known   she   had 


MRS.    FRNWAY    COMES    ROUND.  455 

caused  the  death  of  Mr.  Daskill  and  Clarence.  Nobody 
regretted  her  loss  much,  except  eld  Carolus.  He  was  dread- 
fully cut  up  by  it.  He  had  given  her  a  good  deal  of  money  ; 
and  he  raved  and  swore  about  that,  and  her  leaving  him  in 
his  old  age.  Some  said  she  had  coaxed  him  into  an  agree- 
ment to  marry  her,  and  that  he  had  a  will  already  drawn  up 
giving  all  his  property  to  his  dear  wife.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
there  is  no  doubt  but  the  disappointment  shortened  his  days; 
and  there  mny  have  been  a  grain  of  truth  in  the  gossip  that 
went  the  rounds,  about  the  old  miser  having  his  affections 
blighted  at  eighty  and  dying  of  a  broken  heart. 

"  Mr,  Daskill,  of  course,  made  no  direct  statement  implicat- 
ing Mrs.  Chilgrove  as  the  person  who  set  the  fire  ;  he  was 
not  the  kind  of  man  to  do  that ;  neither  was  he  a  man  to  ask 
anybody's  forgiveness  for  wrongs  he  had  committed.  Yet  he 
won  back  a  good  deal  of  our  respect  by  the  way  he  bore  his 
sufferings,  and  by  his  gentle  and  grateful  behavior  towards  us 
all.  He  really  talked  and  acted  almost  like  a  Christian,  I 
thought  one  while  this  was  the  way  Providence  had  designed 
to  bring  about  a  reconciliation  between  him  and  Marian, 
and  I  could  n't  but  admit  that,  though  fallen  from  his  high 
estate,  he  would  probably,  if  he  had  lived,  have  made  her 
happier  than  he  ever  could  have  done  if  his  pride  and  pros- 
perity had  remained.  But  it  was  not  to  be.  On  the  seventh 
day  after  his  accident,  he  bade  Marian  an  affectionate  fare- 
w-ell,  and  breathed  his  last.  We  had  gone  through  a  terrible 
experience  with  him,  but  I  believe  it  was  good  for  us  all." 

In  concluding  her  narrative,  Mrs.  Fenway  was  accustomed 
to  wipe  her  eyes,  and  acknowledge  that  it  was  a  great  relief 
to  the  family  when  it  was  all  over,  and  she  and  Marian  and  Mr. 
Fenway  came  back  from  Buffalo,  where  they  had  seen 
Adolphus  laid  in  the  Forest  Lawn  Cemetcr}'  by  the  side  of 
his  son.  The  lawsuits  were  dropped,  and  Marian  was  now 
free. 


456  farnell's  folly. 

Old  Carolus  lived  long  enough  to  correct  another  error. 
If  he  had  made  a  will  in  favor  of  Mrs.  Chilgrove,  he  burned 
it,  and  dictated  another  in  accordance  with  his  nephew's 
advice.  By  that  final  instrument,  he  endowed  a  free  public 
library  in  Waybrook,  and  left  the  residue  of  his  property  — 
still  a  handsome  sum  —  "  to  a  worthy  person,  namely,  to  that 
most  deserving  young  man,  William  Rayburn,"  greatly  to  the 
surprise  of  everybody,  and  of  the  said  young  man  partic- 
ularly. 

*'  Having  the  most  perfect  confidence  in  my  said  nephew, 
William  Rayburn,  his  honesty,  sound  judgment,  and  public 
spirit,  I  hereby  appoint  him  sole  trustee  of  the  said  bequest 
of  forty  thousand  dollars,  leaving  the  time  and  manner  of  the 
establishment  of  the  said  free  library  entirely  to  his  dis- 
cretion." 

It  was,  on  the  whole,  a  joyful  surprise  to  William.  The 
thought  of  the  library  which  the  town  would  owe  to  his  uncle 
and  him  filled  him  with  enthusiasm.  As  for  himself,  he  did 
not  object  at  all  to  the  legacy.  He  had  never  undervalued 
money.  It  was  only  the  mania  for  getting  it  in  haste  and 
spending  it  in  folly  which  had  moved  him  to  make  vows  to 
poverty. 

"  This  legacy  is  not  absolutely  mine,  any  more  than  the 
money  left  for  the  library  is  mine,"  he  said  to  his  mother. 
"  I  have  no  right  to  squander  a  dollar  of  it.  Some  of  it  must 
go  to  do  justice  where  my  uncle  did  injustice.  All  of  it  is  to 
be  used  wisely  and  charitably  and  generously." 

"  I  hope  you  '11  remember  that  charity  begins  at  home," 
urged  the  widow. 

"  Yes,  dear  mother  ;  but  it  does  not  stop  there." 

Village  gossip  knew  what  would  of  course  happen,  now  that 
the  poor  boy  was  a  rich  man ;  and  those  worthy  friends  of 
his,  the  Wintergreen  sisters,  begged  to  know  of  Lottie  what 
her  mother  thought  of  the  prospect. 


MRS.    FENWAY    COMES    ROUND.  45/ 

"  He  might  even  buy  the  Folly,  if  it  had  n't  been  burnt 
down,"  says  Miss  Abby. 

"  And  take  Marian  back  into  it,"  says  Lizy  Ann. 

"  And  live  happy  with  her  all  the  rest  of  their  born  days," 
says  Maria. 

And  the  three  pairs  of  spectacles  and  the  eighteen  auburn 
ringlets  (more  or  less  streaked  with  gray)  glisten  and  quiver 
for  the  last  time  in  this  history. 

As  weeks  went  by,  and  William  did  not  renew  his  atten- 
tions to  the  young  widow,  Mrs.  Fenway,  who  had  counted 
confidently  upon  that  result,  began  to  regard  him  as  some- 
how guilty  of  false-hearted  conduct  towards  her  darling. 
Marian's  health  was  extremely  delicate,  and  it  was  feared 
that,  unless  something  occurred  to  cheer  her  melancholy,  she 
might  pass  into  a  decline.  Sometimes  a  word  or  a  smile  from 
William,  as  they  casually  met,  would  seem  to  give  her  new 
life  and  happiness  for  a  day  or  two.  Then  she  would  sink  again 
into  despondency.  All  this  the  mother  observed,  and  heard 
meanwhile  much  talk  about  Will's  good  fortune,  with  praises 
of  his  modesty  and  good  sense.  It  was  more  than  she  could 
bear.  A  tempest  of  sighs  shook  the  fond  maternal  breast, 
and  she  poured  out  her  feelings  on  the  subject  to  Marian,  — 
not  for  the  first  time. 

"  What  is  bethinking  of?  Is  he  puffed  up  with  a  little 
property  ?  What  right  has  any  man  to  treat  our  Marian 
so.-"' 

"  O  mother!  "  said  Marian,  "  what  right  have  tee  to  expect 
any  other  treatment  from  him  ?  " 

"  But  you  did  expect  it !  You  did  hope  he  would  come 
back  to  you!"  Marian  hid  her  face.  "He  shall!"  Mrs. 
Fenway  exclaimed,  in  a  sort  of  frenzy,  excited  by  her  daugh- 
ter's tears.  "  I  will  send  for  him.  I  will  tell  him,  if  he  has 
any  sense  of  honor  or  common  humanity  —  " 

"  No,  no,  no  !     Don't  for  the  world,  mother  !     Especially 


458  farnell's  folly. 

now  that  he  is  rich,  and  after  the  treatment  he  received  from 
us  when  he  was  poor.  Oh,  how  could  I  ?  But  I  did  it,  I  did 
it!" 

"  No,  you  did  n't.  'T  was  I  that  did  it.  I  will  tell  him  so. 
I  will  take  all  the  blame  on  myself.  And  if  he  has  any  love 
or  pity  left  in  his  heart  —  " 

"  Mother  !  "  Marian  again  interrupted  her,  with  anger  and 
grief  and  shame;  "you  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind!  If  I 
had  wealth,  and  he  was  still  poor,  it  would  be  different.  But 
as  it  is,  I  can  die,  mother,  but  I  can  never  let  you  do  that." 
So  saying,  she  sank  back  on  her  lounge,  and  sobbed  broken- 
heartedly. 

"Well,  well!  poor  dear  child!"  said  Mrs.  Fenway,  dash- 
ing away  some  swift  tears  of  her  own ;  "  it  shall  be  as  you 
say." 

She  secretly  put  on  her  things,  and  walked  immediately 
over  to  the  ofifice,  where  she  found  the  young  man  standing 
at  his  desk. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Rayburn  t  "  she  said,  with  a  flushed 
face  ;  "  for  I  suppose  I  must  mister  you  now  you  've  come 
into  a  property,  and  seem  to  be  forgetting  your  old  friends." 

"  I  was  n't  aware  that  I  had  changed  in  any  respect  towards 
my  friends,"  William  replied,  offering  her  a  chair. 

"Thank  you;  I  can't  stop.  Is  Mr.  Fenway  about?  No 
matter;  don't  go  for  him.  I  can  hunt  him  up  after  I  get  my 
breath  a  little.  I  don't  know  but  I  will  sit  down  a  moment. 
I  can't  say  you  have  really  been  changed  by  prosperity,  Wil- 
liam; I  did  n't  mean  that.  What  is  a  little  property,  more  or 
less  ?  You  seem  to  take  a  sensible  view  of  it ;  and  Mr.  Fen- 
way says,  instead  of  being  elated  by  your  good  fortune,  you 
seem  to  feel  as  if  it  had  brought  with  it  only  greater  labor 
and  responsibility.  He  is  so  gratified  that  you  still  remain 
with  him !  The  new  co-operative  arrangement  works  well ;  it 
is  better  for  him  and  better  for  the  men  ;  and  it  is  all  owing 


MRS.    FENWAY    COMES    ROUND.  459 

to  you.  Now,  with  your  help  and  management,  he  says,  the 
business  can  be  enlarged  to  twice  its  present  capacity." 

And  the  little  woman  proceeded  to  fan  her  hot  face  with 
a  newspaper. 

"  Yes,"  Will  said  ;  "  I  like  the  business;  I  like  Mr.  Fenway, 
and  I  have  no  notion  of  leaving  him." 

"  But,  of  course,  your  private  affairs  and  the  establishment 
of  the  library  will  take  a  great  deal  of  your  time.  I  am  so 
glad  you  are  going  to  have  a  reading-room,  where  young  peo- 
ple can  spend  their  evenings.  It  will  be  a  grand  thing  for 
this  town  ;  better  than  all  the  temperance  lectures.  Little  did 
old  Carolus  think  that  the  money  he  made  selling  rum  was 
going  to  help  cure  people  of  rum  drinking  !  What  are  these  ? 
Catalogues  of  other  libraries  !  I  see  you  are  going  to  work 
in  earnest.  You  will  need  a  librarian,  of  course  ;  and  I  've 
thought  of  just  the  person." 

"  Who  is  that .? " 

"  Julia  Farnell !  "  said  the  little  woman  triumphantly. 

"Ah?  "  said  William,  with  a  curious,  inquiring  look, 

"Yes!"  said  Mrs.  Fenway  positively,  still  fanning  herself. 
"  It  is  just  the  place  for  her,  and  she  is  just  the  person  for 
the  place.  I  hear  she  isn't  going  back  into  the  seminar)'  at 
the  close  of  vacation;  I  suppose  the  work  is  too  hard.  But 
she  will  have  to  do  something ;  and  she  showed  such  kindness 
to  Marian  in  her  trouble  that  I  sincerely  wish  I  could  be  the 
means  of  getting  her  more  pleasant  employment.  Will  you 
bear  the  matter  in  mind  ? " 

Will  smiled  graciously. 

"Thank  you,  if  you  will,"  continued  Mrs.  Fenway.  "  I  see 
you  are  fitting  up  the  old  Farnell  house.  It  is  a  real  nice 
place,  after  all.  What  a  pity  Ward  Farnell  should  ever  have 
got  too  big  for  his  boots,  and  so  put  his  foot  in  that  miserable 
Folly!  O  William,  things  would  have  been  so  different  if  he 
had  staved  where  he  was!     He  might  be  alive   now;  though 


460  farnell's  folly. 

I  can't  say  the  girls  have  met  with  a  very  great  loss,  for  the 
matter  of  that.  Was  n't  it  strange,  how  his  moral  character 
all  went  to  pieces  just  as  soon  as  he  lost  his  self-respect  and 
the  respect  of  the  community,  which  seemed  to  have  held  him 
together?  for  all  the  world  like  an  old  barrel  after  the  hoops 
have  dropped  off.  He 's  a  terrible  burden  lifted  from  that 
family.  But  I  was  thinking  of  the  difference  to  some  other 
people.     O  William  !  excuse  a  mother's  feelings  !  " 

Mrs.  Fenway  stopped  fanning,  and  had  recourse  to  her 
handkerchief.  William  leaned  his  elbow  on  the  desk,  and 
stood  watching  her  with  respectful  interest. 

"  I  suppose  the  girls  would  be  glad  enough  to  get  back  into 
the  old  house,"  — she  pat  away  her  handkerchief  and  resumed 
the  newspaper,  — "  if  they  could  manage  to  pay  the  rent. 
Strange  that  it  should  never  have  been  occupied  since  your 
uncle  foreclosed  the  mortgage  and  turned  the  family  out! 
Maybe  you  are  fitting  it  up  for  yourself.  But  it  will  be  large, 
won't  it,  for  just  you  and  your  mother.''  I  don't  see  but 
you  '11  have  to  do  as  everybody  else  does,  —  get  married, 
William!" 

And  good  Mrs.  Fenway,  still  fanning  herself,  smirked  and 
leered  at  him  over  the  rustling  newspaper.  Will  smiled 
graciously  again,  and  thanked  her  for  the  suggestion. 

"  O  William  !  "  she  went  on,  "  I  suppose  I  know  who  would 
have  been  your  choice.  And  my  poor  dear  Marian  might 
have  been  happy.  And  I  'm  sure  that  it 's  no  fault  of  hers 
that  her  destiny  is  different ;  for  if  ever  there  was  a  sincere 
and  pure  attachment  —  but  of  course  it 's  too  late  to  speak  of 
it  now.  Only  I  hope  you  don't  blame  her  for  anything  that 
occurred." 

Mrs.  Fenway  heaved  a  prodigious  sigh,  and  caught  up  her 
handkerchief.  William  stood  looking  down  gravely  at  her, 
with  a  wrinkle  of  pain  or  annoyance  in  his  brow,  but  made  no 
reply. 


MRS.  FENWAY  COMES  ROUND.  46 1 

*'  I  'm  v/illing  to  take  all  the  blame  on  myself,  though  I 
know  it  can  do  no  good  now.  But  I  wish  you  could  let  by- 
gones be  bygones,  can't  you,  William  ?  " 

And  she  looked  at  him  with  red  eyes,  a  persuasive  smile 
puckering  her  convulsed  face. 

"Why,  Mrs.  Fenway,"  William  replied,  "I  cherish  no  re- 
sentment towards  either  you  or  Marian,  nothing  but  the  most 
cordial  good-will." 

"  Is  that  all  ? "  she  cried,  now  fairly  drawn  into  the  whirl- 
pool of  her  excited  feelings.  "  Have  you  no  longer  any  love 
for  our  unhappy  girl }  Heaven  forgive  me  for  saying  it  against 
her  wishes  and  commands,  but  she  is  pining  for  you ;  your 
coldness  is  breaking  her  heart,  —  and  that  is  the  very  truth!  " 

Will  looked  his  astonishment,  his  pain  and  commiseration, 
but  said  nothing. 

"  She  charged  me  not  to  come  to  you,  and  I  really  did  n't 
mean  to  say  this,  but  see,  I  humble  myself  before  you  !  I  get 
down  on  my  knees  to  you  ! " 

And  the  poor  woman  looked  as  if  she  would  actually  have 
thrown  herself  at  his  feet,  on  the  unswept  office  floor,  if  a 
glance  had  not  shown  her  how  very  dusty  and  unfit  a  place  it 
was  for  her  purpose.  Leaving  her  words,  therefore,  to  stand, 
or  rather  bow  down,  metaphorically,  she  went  on,  still  weep- 

"  I  don't  know  where  my  pride  is  gone,  that  I  should  come 
to  you  in  this  way.  But  what  is  pride  to  a  mother's  love  and 
grief  ?  She  is  dying,  William.  You  alone  can  save  her.  Oh ! 
I  wish  you  were  a  poor  young  man  again,  that  you  might  see 
how  sincere  I  am,  and  how  little  I  am  moved  by  any  other 
consideration  than  a  mother's  regard  for  her  daughter's  hap- 
piness and  life.  'T  was  I  who  took  her  from  you,  I  who  made 
that  most  miserable  marriage.  I  did  it  in  my  vanity  and  igno- 
rance. It  has  been  an  awful  lesson,  a  dreadful  judgment. 
Soften  it  to  us,  William  !     If  you  have  no  regard  for  me,  I 


^62  farnell's  folly. 

know  your  friendship  for  her  father.     For  his  sake,  promise 
that  you  will  come  and  visit  and  cheer  our  child." 

"  I  certainly  will  come  !  "  said  William,  deeply  moved, 
"  I  knew  you  would.  And  oh,  don't  delay  !  Since  she 
gave  you  up,  she  has  been  failing  so  fast  1  A  week  may  be 
fatal.  You  would  have  come  of  your  own  accord  some  time, 
I  know,  but  I  could  not,  I  dared  not,  wait.  Bless  you !  bless 
you  !  "  She  seized  his  hand  and  kissed  it.  "  All  will  yet  be 
well!" 

"I  will  come,"  Will  repeated,  with  a  strange  embarrass- 
ment. "  I  will  do  all  I  can  for  you  and  her  —  for  all  of  you ; 
but  I  cannot  believe  that  her  life  lies  in  my  hands,  or  her 
happiness.     I  should  be  sorry  to  think  that." 

"  Don't  tell  me,"  cried  Mrs.  Fenway,  starting  back  and  glar- 
ing upon  him,  "  that  your  feeling  toward  her  has  changed  !  " 

"  Mrs.  Fenway,"  he  answered,  shaken  by  a  great  emotion, 
"  I  must  speak  the  truth." 

"  You  don't  love  her  ?  Then  you  never  did  !  You  have 
trifled  with  my  child's  affections.  Oh,  the  fickleness,  the 
falsehood,  the  perfidy  of  men  !  " 

She  turned  from  him  with  a  violent  gesture,  and  dashed 
away  her  tears.  He  tried  to  speak  calmly,  and  mastered  him- 
self to  say,  — 

"  There  has  been  a  great  change  in  me  —  I  must  declare  it 
to  you  —  since  I  was  separated  from  Marian." 

"  Well,  well !  "  she  was  on  her  feet  now.  She  turned  again 
to  him  appealingly.  "  There  is  a  great  change  in  her,  too. 
She  has  been  cured  of  all  her  girlish  vanity.  She  is  an  angel 
of  patience.  Such  gentleness  and  affection  I  never  saw  be- 
fore. You  will,  I  am  sure,  feel  some  love  for  her  when  you 
come  to  see  her  again." 

"  I  have  never  ceased  to  feel  love  for  her,"  said  William. 
"  But,  whereas  I  was  a  boy,  now  I  am  a  man.  She  had  all 
the  boy's  first  passion.     But  the  man's  heart,  Mrs.  Fenway, 


MRS.    FENWAY    COMES    ROUND.  463 

—  you,  at  least,  shall  know  the  truth,  —  the  man's  heart  is 
another's.  Perhaps  you  had  better  tell  her  that  before  I  see 
her." 

"  Tell  her  that,  and  strike  a  dagger  into  her  soul  ?  Oh ! 
oh!  oh!"  Mrs.  T'enway  sobbed  hysterically.  Again  she 
turned  from  William  with  an  angr)'  gesture,  when  he  would 
have  calmed  her.  "But  tell  me  who  it  is!  What  siren, 
what  enchantress,"  —  her  anger  changed  to  horrible  sarcasm, 

—  "what  paragon  of  beauty  and  virtue  has  come  in  before 
my  Marian  ?  " 

William  hesitated,  but  concluded  to  speak  plainly. 

"  She  is  no  paragon,  no  enchantress,  but  a  brave,  good 
girl.  One  you  know,  and  have  just  spoken  of  ver\'  kindly," 
he  said,  flushing  up. 

"Julia  Farnell  .^ "  screamed  the  little  woman.  "Ward 
Farnell's  daughter?  Marian!  Marian!  Marian!"  and  she 
sank  down  again  in  the  chair. 

Still  holding  himself  calm,  Will  said,  — 

"  What  I  tell  you  is  still  a  secret,  but  I  thought  it  right  to 
intrust  it  to  you,  and  to  Marian,  if  I  am  to  see  her." 

"  You  can  spare  yourself  the  trouble  !  "  Handkerchief 
once  more,  dr}ing  the  tears  that  had  been  shed  in  vain. 
"Ward  Farnell's  daughter,  indeed!  Why  couldn't  I  have 
known  that  before,  and  spared  myself  this  humiliation  ?  My 
poor,  forsaken,  broken-hearted  child  !  I  can't  tell  her  of  this 
interview,  but  I  shall  take  pains  to  let  her  know  how  we  have 
been  deceived  in  you.     Good  day,  sir !  " 

With  frigid  courtesy  and  fiery  eyes,  she  bustled  out  of  the 
room.  On  reaching  home,  she  made  small  effort  to  conceal 
her  agitation  from  Marian ;  but  she  had  a  good  e.vcuse  for  it. 
She  had  just  heard  a  piece  of  news,  so  absurd  1  William 
Rayburn  and  Julia  Farnell  were  engaged ! 

Marian  turned  white.     "  It  can't  be,  mother!  " 

"  Positive  !  "  said  Mrs.  Fenway,  with  a  scornful  toss.    "  But 


464  farnell's  folly. 

don't  look  so  scared!  Don't  mind  it,  my  child:  he  isn't  worth 
a  thought.  Julia  Farnell,  the  old  bankrupt's  daughter,  pre- 
ferred before  you  !     The  idea  !  " 

"  She  might  well  be  preferred  before  me,"  said  the  poor 
girl,  with  a  deathly  look,  pressing  her  hand  on  her  heart. 
"  How  did  you  hear?" 

"Hear?  It  is  all  over  town !  "  said  Mrs.  Fenway  shortly. 
A  statement  which,  thanks  to  her,  was  only  a  few  hours  in 
advance  of  the  truth.  The  news  luas  all  over  town  the  next 
day,  somewhat  to  the  annoyance,  I  fear,  of  the  parties  most 
concerned. 

"  Has  my  little  woman  been  here  to  talk  with  you  about 
Marian  ?  "  Miles  asked  of  William  not  long  after.  "  I  sus- 
pected as  much.  She  's  a  precious  fool.  Sometimes  I  think 
I  shall  have  to  shut  her  up,  or  clap  a  bell  on  her,  to  keep 
track  of  her  mischief.  William,"  Miles  went  on,  with  eyes 
beginning  to  glisten  and  voice  to  tremble,  "you  know  how  I 
have  always  liked  you,  and  how  glad  I  should  have  been  if 
you  and  Marian  had  made  a  match  of  it.  But  she  chose  dif- 
ferently, to  my  great  grief.  And  now  you  have  chosen  differ- 
ently, and  I  can  only  say,  God  prosper  you  !  Julia  Farnell 
is  better  fitted  than  any  other  girl  I  know  to  be  your  help- 
meet in  the  work  you  have  laid  out  for  yourself.  Marian 
wasn't  so  well  suited  to  you;  and  I  don't  believe  she  would 
have  stayed  long  with  you  —  or  with  us  —  even  if — " 

Mr.  Fenway  wrung  the  young  man's  hand,  and  left  the 
painful  words  unfinished. 


A    LAST    MEETING.  465 


CHAPTER  LV 


A    LAST     MEETING, 


William  talked  over  the  matter  freely  with  Julia  Farnell, 
and  both  were  in  deep  distress  of  mind  about  Marian.  At 
length,  two  or  three  weeks  after  his  inter\-iew  with  the  mother, 
they  received  a  note  from  the  daughter,  addressed  to  them 
jointly,  under  cover  to  Julia. 

"  Afy  dearest  Friends,  I  wish  to  see  you  Iwth.  As  I  cannot 
go  to  you,  will  you  come  to  me?     Any  afternoon,  but  smu. 

"  Marian." 

It  reminded  Will  of  the  little  notes  he  used  to  receive  from 
her  in  the  old  days.  Ah  !  why  that  tremendous  sigh  ?  After 
a  long  silence, — 

"  Shall  we  go  ?  "  he  asked. 

"I  think  we  must,"  said  Julia.  "  And,  William,"  —  look- 
ino-  him  earnestly  in  the  face,  —  "  if  you  have  a  shadow  of 
regret,  remember,  you  are  free." 

He  knew  well  how  capable  she  was  of  such  self-sacrifice. 
He  made  no  reply  to  her  then.  Presently  he  said,  giving 
her  back  the  note,  — 

"  We  will  go  to-morrow  afternoon." 

They  went.  At  sight  of  them,  Mrs.  Fenway  burst  into 
tears.  She  was  changed  vcr\-  much  from  the  tempestuous- 
tempered  little  woman  who  called  on  Will  so  short  a  time 
before.  Having  prepared  Marian  to  receive  them,  she  took 
them  to  her  and  withdrew. 
30 


466  farnell's  folly. 

Marian  partly  rose  from  the  lounge  where  she  lay,  and  with 
a  smile  of  welcome  reached  out  both  hands  to  her  friends. 
Her  face,  though  thin,  and  of  almost  waxen  delicac)-,  had 
never  beamed  with  more  perfect  loveliness. 

"  It  is  so  good  in  you  to  come  !  "  she  said,  still  holding  a 
hand  of  each  as  they  seated  themselves  beside  her.  "  I 
wanted  to  see  you  together.  So  it  has  happened.  Will,  what 
we  once  talked  about?     I  am  so  glad  for  both  of  you ! " 

■  "  I  am  glad  you  are  glad,  Marian  ! "  said  Will,  with  over- 
flowing tenderness. 

"  I  might  have  been  selfish  and  sorry,"  she  confessed,  with 
a  faint  blush.  "  But  I  know  now  you  were  not  for  me,  Will. 
Even  in  the  happy,  the  sometimes  happy  days,  when  —  when 
we  were  together,  I  had  misgivings  that  I  was  not  for  you. 
And  if  I  had  kept  you,  I  should  have  been  —  I  knov/  that, 
too,  now  — robbing  dear  Julia.  I  hope  she  is  all  to  you  that 
I  —  oh,  a  hundred  times  more  than  I  could  ever  have  been  ! 
Julia,  tell  me  how  much  you  love  him." 

"If  I  do,"  said  Julia,  with  a  tremulous  smile,  "I  shall  tell 
you  more  than  I  have  ever  yet  told  him." 

"Oh,  well,  never  mind;  tell  me  !  "  said  Marian  coaxingly, 
with  her  exquisite  charm  of  manner,  which  nobody  could 
ever  resist.  "  I  want  to  hear  it ;  there  's  a  dear,  good  girl ! 
How  long  have  you  loved  him  ? " 

"  O  child  !  child  !  "  broke  forth  Julia,  with  a  sob  struggling 
somewhere  behind  her  words,  "  will  you  make  me  confess  a 
secret  ?     And  it  will  not  give  you  pain  ?  " 

"It  will  be  a  sweet  pain.  Tell  me  how  long,  tell  me  all 
about  it !  "   Marian  pleaded  fondly. 

"Will,  shut  your  ears!"  said  Julia.  She  covered  her  own 
face  for  a  moment,  then,  with  a  rosy  rapture  in  it,  turned  it, 
full-beaming,  upon  Marian.  "I  have  loved  him  all  my  life  — 
ever  since  I  was  a  child,  and  he  a  boy  in  my  father's  store. 
He  was  bashful ;  he  thought  I  was  proud  ;  he  would  hardly 


A    LAST    MEETING.  467 

look  me  in  the  face.  And  all  the  while  my  little  girlish  heart 
was  melting  with  tenderness  lor  him  —  full  of  yearning  love!" 

"Julia!"  said  Will,  in  extreme  surprise,  "is  it  the  truth 
you  are  telling  ?" 

"  I  am  not  speaking  to  you,  sir!  What  you  hear  is  at  your 
peril.     Marian,  have  I  told  you  enough  !  " 

"  No,  no ! "  said  Marian.  "  1  never  dreamed  of  all  this  I 
I  know,  now,  why  you  never  encouraged  any  of  the  young 
men  who  gave  you  their  attentions.  You  told  me  you  re- 
spected him  because  he  did  not  rush  to  throw  himself  at  your 
feet ;  but  you  did  not  let  me  guess  that  you  loved  him 
already." 

"  No ;  I  would  not  own  to  myself  that  I  did.  But  all  the 
while  something  in  my  heart  kept  singing,  '  He  shall  give  me 
his  love  some  day ! '  Then  think  what  I  must  have  felt 
when  I  found  he  had  given  it  to  you  1 

"O  Julia,  why  didn't  I  know  ?  How  cruel  it  was  of  me  — 
only  I  did  n't  know  —  to  tell  you  what  I  did !  " 

"  Marian,  when  you  came  to  me,  and  acknowledged  your 
feeling  for  him  and  his  for  you,  and  told  me  of  your  trifling 
quarrels,  and  then  of  your  more  serious  differences,  it  was 
sometimes  almost  more  than  I  could  bear ;  I  had  to  hold  my 
heart  hard.  You  were  my  friend,  and  I  would  not  let  you 
know  that  you  had  what  I  wished  for  more  than  for  anything 
else  in  the  world  ;  I  would  n't  so  shame  my  love  and  embitter 
yours." 

Marian  was  weeping  softly.  Julia  went  on,  her  glistening 
eyes  fixed  on  a  cross  of  pearls  that  hung  from  Marian's  neck. 
Will  listened,  greatly  overcome. 

"  I  was  true  to  you  both,  and  I  thank  Heaven  that  I  was. 
I  believed  he  loved  you,  Marian,  as  he  could  never  love  me, 
and  I  sincerely  wished  you  both  happy.  Then  you  married 
Mr.  Daskill,  and  I  was  disappointed  that  William  did  not  come 
to  the  house  any  more.     It  had  been  a  comfort  tome  when  he 


468  farnell's  folly. 

came  only  to  talk  about  you.  My  life  was  very  hard ;  I  had 
insupportable  burdens  ;  but  —  I  was  going  to  sav  they  are  all 
taken  from  me  now.  I  have  but  one  sorrow.  Marian  !  if  I 
could  see  you  well  and  happy,  then  my  life  would  be  a  perfect 
hymn  of  joy." 

"Well  I  can  never  be/' said  Marian,  with  a  sad  smile;  "but 
don't  think  I  am  unhappy.  I  do  not  even  wish  for  life.  It 
is  all  as  I  would  have  it.  I  was  never  good  enough  nor  strong 
enough  to  be  your  wife,  Will.  If  you  had  married  me,  you 
could  n't  have  had  me  with  you  very  long.  Do  you  remember, 
Julia,  the  line  in  Victor  Hugo's  drama  which  I  read  with  you  ? 

'  Souffrir, 
Rtver,  puis  s^en  aller,  ccst  Ic  sort  de  la/emme.' 

It  is  the  only  thing  in  it  which  I  remember.  I  had  a  vague 
misgiving  that  to  '  suffer,  dream,  and  pass  away '  was  to  be  my 
lot.  I  had  this  pain  here,  William,"  —  she  laid  her  hand  on 
her  left  side,  —  "even  before  that  dreadful  night  when  you 
rescued  me  in  the  sterm.  After  that  it  grew  worse.  I  don't 
think  anything  could  have  restored  me,  — not  even  your  love. 
I  could  never  have  been  so  unselfish  as  you  were,  Julia,"  she 
went  on,  looking  with  infinite  fondness  at  them  both.  "  If  I 
had  been  in  your  place,  I  should  have  tried  to  win  him,  even 
from  my  dearest  friend.  Oh,  I  know  I  should !  But  I  give 
him  to  you  gladly  now.  I  could  n't  bear  that  anybody  else  — 
anybody  less  worthy  —  should  have  him.  His  love  is  very, 
very  beautiful,  is  it  not  ?  Now,  I  want  to  say  one  little  word 
to  you  he  must  not  hear." 

So  Will  went  alone  out  of  the  room,  in  a  dream  of  unspeak- 
able sadness.  Did  he  love  Marian  still  ?  To  her  he  had 
given  the  beautiful  bloom  of  first  affection.  But  another  now 
had  the  heart's  full-ripened  fruit.  It  was  enough.  Yet  his 
soul  was  filled  with  immortal  pity  and  remembrance,  if  not 
with  regret. 


A    LAST    MEETING.  469 

At  the  head  of  the  stairs  Mrs.  Fenway  met  him,  with  wet 
eyes,  and  addressed  him  in  incoherent  whispers. 

"  It  was  so  kind  of  you  to  come,  after —  I  talked  with  you 
very  foolishly  the  other  day,  I  know.  A  mother's  feelings  — 
you  will  consider  —  and  forgive.  I  fear  we  must  lose  our 
darling,  but  it  is  not  your  fault,  though,  in  my  haste,  I  said  — 
I  don't  know  what  I  said  !  You  have  acted  honorably  all 
along,  and  you  have  chosen  a  good  wife.  And  though  I 
hoped  —  Oh,  dear  !  dear  !  " 

William,  himself  powerfully  affected,  was  trying  to  say 
something  to  comfort  the  poor  woman,  when  Julia  came  out 
of  Marian's  room. 

Sadly  and  silently  the  young  couple  went  away  together. 
As  they  walked  beneath  the  wayside  elms,  in  the  light  of  the 
September  sunset,  neither  spoke  of  what  was  in  both  their 
thoughts.  He  did  not  know  what  had  passed  between  her 
and  Marian  in  those  last  moments  ;  and  neither  then  nor  ever 
after  did  she  breathe  the  secret.  Only  by  her  rapt  and  sor- 
rowful countenance,  and  the  spiritual  light  in  her  eyes,  could 
he  conjecture  how  sacred  and  how  solemnly  sweet  and  sad  it 
must  have  been. 


The  End. 


SOPHIE  MAY'S  "GROWX-LP"  BOOKS. 


Chi/orm  Binding.    Alt  Handwmely  Illustraled.     fl.60. 


JANET,  A  POOR  HEIRESS. 
"The  heroine  of  lh\^  t-^ory  is  a  true  triil.  Am  iinpi-iioii-",  f.inltfindlntf, 
nnappreciative  father  alienates  her  love,  and  nearly  ruiii!<  her  temper. 
The  mother  knows  the  father  is  at  fault,  but  does  not  dare  to  eay  so. 
Then  comes  a  dir-covery,  that  she  is  only  an  adopted  daughter;  a  for- 
Baking  of  the  old  home;  a  life  of  strange  vicissitudes;  a  return;  a  mar- 
riage  under  difficulties;  and  a  discovery,  that,  after  all,  she  is  au  heiress. 
The  story  is  certaiuly  a  very  auractive  one."  —  t'hicugo  Jittfrior. 

THE  DOCTOR'S  DAUGHTER. 
"Sophie  May,  author  of  the  renowned  Trudy  and  Potty  books,  has 
achieved  another  triumph  in  the  new  book  with  this  title  just  issued, 
She  has  taken  'a  new  departure'  this  time,  and  written  a  new  story  for 
grown-up  folks.  If  we  are  not  much  misuiken,  the  young  folks  will 
watit  to  read  it,  as  much  as  the  old  folks  want  to  read  tne  books  written 
for  the  young  ones.  It  is  a  splendid  story  for  all  ages."  —  Lynn  Semi- 
Wetkly  Recorder. 

THE  A3BURY  TWINS. 
"The  announcement  of  another  work  by  this  charming  and  popular 
writer  will  be  heartily  welcomed  by  the  public.  And  in  this  sensible, 
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the  next,  and  so  on  through  the  book.  Van  is  frank,  honest,  arid  practi- 
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"'Our  Helen'  is  Pophie  May's  latest  creation;  and  she  Is  a  brieht, 
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Macbias;  and  other  Quinneljasset  i>eople  with  familiar  names  occasionally 
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contrast  between  her  and  pretty,  fascinating,  selfish  little  Sharley,  is  very 
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A   "WOMAN'S   "WORD,    AND    HOW    SHE   KEPT    IT. 

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